If I Should Never Find You
by Wolffriend
Summary: Wendell leaves on an adventure, encountering Melissa, a famous actress from the 10th Kingdom, and her companions Terry and Sport. The foursome follow a stolen Traveling mirror through Wendell's lands and beyond, finding romance and adventure.
1. Part 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own some of the characters in this story (if you've seen 'The 10th Kingdom,' you'll know which ones I mean. +)). For their use, I thank Simon Moore (and whoever else I need to). The idea of the Little Mermaid is taken from Hans Christian Anderson's tale. Melissa, Grojavek, Terry, Rena, and a few others are all original characters. They, and the plot in it's entirety, are copyrighted me. +) This disclaimer carries over through all parts.   
  
Finally, thank you to my beta-readers, Kat and Nadia, the world's two best. Any remaining errors are mine, and mine alone. +)  
  
NOTE: If you've read 'Meeting Thanksgiving,' you'll recognize Melissa from there. This is her story.   
  
IF I SHOULD NEVER FIND YOU  
  
By Wolffriend  
  
"If I should never find you in this life, let me feel the lack.   
  
One glance from your eyes, and my life will be yours."  
  
--'The Thin Red Line'  
  
Wendell woke up, groping blindly at the satin sheets.  
  
He had had the nightmare again.  
  
The one where the Evil Queen still lived, and he, the Ruler of the 4th Kingdom, was still a dog at her feet. She used and abused him for the pleasure of her troll servants, and all of his people laughed at him when he tried to speak. No one knew that the dog was a prince, and no one noticed that the prince was a dog. It was awful, and he always woke up shaking and sweating.  
  
Sitting up in his huge bed, Wendell smoothed down his blonde curls, feeling the resentment begin again. The others had been gone for three months   
  
now, having earned their well-deserved rest. They'd sent a message across once to Wolf and Virginia, and had received a letter saying everything was going   
  
fine. They kept obstetrician visits to a minimum and would be coming home in another few months.  
  
Antony, meanwhile, was tucked away in his granted castle, by all accounts having the time of his previously pathetic life. He had left Wendell's castle two weeks after Wolf and Virginia, with a small band of followers who worshipped his every step.   
  
Wendell knew the three deserved the peace, and he certainly didn't begrudge them their happiness.  
  
But it had been *four* who saved the Nine Kingdoms.   
  
What sort of peace did he get? How much happiness was he allowed? He was more than proud to be the Fourth Kingdom's ruler, but he would have liked a break after his harrowing experience. And, he hoped, a way to rid himself of the nightmares. Instead of the constant meetings and celebrations and   
  
decisions. Oh the decisions! When had people stopped being able to make up their own minds?  
  
Flopping onto his back, Wendell stared up at the silken canopy above his bed. None of them knew what it had been like, that endless time as a dog. Elf-all, he had almost lost himself entirely. And that time with the Huntsman ... he felt a shiver roll through him and he turned onto his side, curling into a ball.   
  
"Go to sleep," he told himself very sternly. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to him as it always did, and he grew tired again.  
  
"I wish I could just get away for awhile," he murmured aloud, the last word swallowed by a yawn. The wind whispered through his open window, past the heavy drapes. As he drifted to sleep, he could make out its voice, and he heard it saying, 'Be careful what you wish for.'  
  
**********  
  
Melissa answered the knock at her trailer door with a terse, "yeah?"  
  
"It's Teresa, Ms. Duke. Time for your make-up." Melissa groaned and stalked to the door, unlocking it and flinging it wide. A lighting hand walking by jumped at the movement, caught her baleful glare, and hurried on his way.  
  
Teresa stood to the opposite side of the door, frowning as she always did   
  
lately. "Good morning to you, too," she said in her soft voice. "Glad to see you're in good spirits this morning."  
  
Melissa made a face and ushered the make-up artist in, closing the door firmly behind her. "Don't start with me, Terry. I don't need it."  
  
"I think you do." She pushed Melissa steadily to the make-up chair and forced her into it. "Look at you, for Heaven's sake. No cheekbones to speak   
  
of, and those eyelashes are a disgrace!"  
  
She had to smile at that, looking at herself in the mirror. Even when her movies were roasted, which seemed to be more frequent lately, the critics always gave a plug to her 'timeless beauty.' Like she was fifty instead of twenty-eight. But when she had been in the public eye since she was six, it felt like she was a hundred.   
  
"Why do I do it?" she sighed aloud.  
  
Teresa deftly tied the make-up bib around her neck, exactly the same as every morning. "Because you get paid millions of dollars, hon," the older woman answered matter-of-factly.  
  
Melissa sighed again. "That's no reason to be an actress. I don't even like acting anymore. I should quit."  
  
Teresa had had experience with this particular conversation. "But you're so good at it, and you make millions of people happy by what you do, Missy."  
  
"Missy!" Melissa jerked her head away from the foundation brush. "Don't call me that! That's the worst part of all of this. 'Missy Duke.'" She   
  
groaned loudly. "I can't believe I was ever young enough to agree to that."  
  
"You were and you did, Melissa."  
  
"They won't let me change it back either," she pouted.  
  
"It's too late now. Everyone in the world knows Missy Duke. Few people know Melissa Dukavski."  
  
"You do."  
  
Teresa smiled gently. "I've known you for a long time."  
  
Melissa laid her head against Teresa's hand, smelling the other woman's fresh nail polish. It was so familiar that it brought tears to her eyes. "I'm glad," she said, blinking rapidly.  
  
"Don't ruin your make-up," Teresa warned, noticing everything. As always.  
  
They sat in silence while she finished the job. It went fast, requiring nothing special to bring out Melissa's beauty. When she looked at the results in the mirror, she couldn't help but see that even Teresa wasn't talented enough to hide the tiredness.  
  
"You look beautiful," she said, when Melissa pulled off the bib and headed for the door.  
  
"You always say that."  
  
"I always mean it." Teresa paused, then asked, "Are you all right?"  
  
Melissa glanced at her long-time friend and caretaker over her shoulder. "I'm one of the most famous movie stars alive. I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I'm relatively young. What do I have to be upset about?" She left the question hanging and stepped out into the morning sunlight.  
  
**********  
  
"Must get the mirror, must get the mirror, must get the mirror!" The little imp tripped over his feet in his own malicious glee. Picking himself up, he ducked into one of the alcoves along the hallway, giggling. Cold air rushed past, pricking at his skin and he frowned at the emptiness. "I know I know!" he squealed at it, then clamped both ungainly hands over his absurdly small mouth. He giggled again and scampered back out into the hall.  
  
She was always watching him, always bothering him. She should leave him alone. She just distracted him. He was getting the mirror. Get the mirror, She had told him. He was getting it. Just a few feet further and he'd have got it. He giggled again.  
  
The King was so stupid. Thinking no one could get down here. He could. He was just small enough, just smart enough, to make it in. Squeeze through the hole, push aside some rock, eat a mouse. He licked his lips and leapt for the mouse, but it scampered away before he could grab it.  
  
"Dumb mouse!" he shouted. Then, "Shhhhhhh! Must be quiet. Get the mirror!" There it was, dull and dusty. Stupid King. He pulled out the bag   
  
full of magic dust She had given him. What had She told him? Be careful. He nodded his head vigorously. Must be careful. Get the mirror. Shrink the   
  
mirror. Take it back to Her.  
  
And then...and then! Then She would give him his surprise! He could hardly contain himself. He loved surprises.   
  
Trembling all over with excitement, he opened up the bag and sniffed it, sneezing promptly into the contents. The dust poofed up out of the bag and   
  
sprinkled across his nose. He felt it tingle, and then suddenly the bulbous protuberance disappeared. He crossed his eyes to get a look at it, but still   
  
couldn't see it. Suck an elf! What had happened to his precious nose?!  
  
He was on the verge of tears now. But when he reached up and touched it, he felt a small knob. Was that his nose? That tiny, awful, hideous thing he was feeling? It was no more than a wart! The dust! The thoughts fell into place in his scattered, excited brain, and he stared at the dust with new   
  
respect. He had had the largest nose in Impdom. He would get Her to fix it before he gave Her the mirror.  
  
He looked at himself in the mirror, disgusted by how ugly he looked now with the tiny nose. Yes, he would make Her fix it before he gave Her the   
  
mirror. He nodded again, his floppy ears banging against the side of his head. He grinned at his reflection, admiring his perfectly green-stained teeth. Then, bursting into giggles again, he began spreading dust on the mirror, until it shrank so that it was small enough to fit into his sweaty pocket.   
  
With a squeal of delight, he set off again, anxious to make it back to Her. The mirror banged against his leg as he loped away, giggling.  
  
**********  
  
She waited.  
  
Rena had always been waiting, it seemed. Ever since she had flung herself into the ocean instead of killing her beloved prince, she had waited. And for what? For two hundred years she had suffered the pains of others, hoping that it would ease her own. It hadn't worked, like her sisters had promised. They had long since left her, their sentences fulfilled. But she had stayed. Where the others had found happiness, she could only find misery.  
  
It was fitting, really.   
  
She wished, for some countless time, that she had killed the Prince when she had had a chance. She had suffered endless agony at his wedding, watching him kiss his new bride, thinking that she had been the one to save him. But her muteness -- her *dumbness*, as he had so appropriately named it -- had kept the truth from him. And then, when death lingered on the dawning of the new day, and she had been offered life, she had thrown it away. Because her life had meant his death, and Rena never could have killed him back then. Back then, she had decided to take her own life instead, because she thought she had no life without him.  
  
How wrong she had been.  
  
There was so much more to life than him. Now she knew what it was truly like to be human. Something had happened when she had dissolved into the ocean foam, her mermaid form dying. The others had come and lifted her up, promising her a soul if she just waited long enough. She waited. And waited. And waited still. The others spouted their silly words, and they wafted on the wind to bring joy and peace and leave Rena to wait. Rena was sick of waiting.  
  
She took the wind that carried her slowly forming soul, and shaped it, twisted it, spun it into a hurricane and sent it sailing across the waters. Her first attempts were no more than meager rainstorms. Eventually she gathered enough power to sink a ship, and she tasted freedom.   
  
Somehow, these people that she killed, their deaths gave her back parts of herself. But these parts were special. She could mold them into whatever she wanted to be, and she wanted to be human. Oh her prince had long since died, but she knew his line lived on. She couldn't find them, but she knew they were there, somewhere. Rena was certain that if she were human, she could satisfy the revenge that had burned so brightly within her all these two hundred years.   
  
Some things, she had found, were worth waiting for.  
  
But the souls of the fishermen and village people were small and petty. She needed a hero's soul. And when the wind whispered its secrets to her, her half-formed face twisted with her lopsided grin. Her actual power was not enough for direct action, but she had learned many ways to get what she wanted. That elf-all imp, Grojavek, was just one way. Not her first choice, but the best one she had access to, so she had sent him and his tiny brain to get the mirror for her, that she may put her plan into action.   
  
Yes, she would get what she wanted.  
  
And she wanted Wendell.  
  
**********  
  
"We wanted you to decide for us, Your Highness."  
  
Wendell managed to keep his 'royal face,' while groaning inwardly. "Yes of course. Why don't you..." he paused, scrambling to remember why the men were there. "Uh, why don't you...ah yes! You can put in a fenced pen and that will keep your pig from eating his roots."  
  
Both men gazed up at Wendell, clearly awe-struck.  
  
"A bloody genius," he heard someone in the crowd murmur.  
  
"Next case!" the servant standing next to his throne bellowed across the room.  
  
Two more men approached, one with a chicken stuffed under his arm, the other struggling to hold onto a furious rooster. The one with the chicken began shouting something at him, while the rooster started crowing for some inexplicable reason. Wendell felt the noise crashing into him, building into an   
  
internal pressure that felt like it would explode out of his head.   
  
"No!"  
  
The crowd stilled, watching him. Suck an elf! He hadn't meant to say that out loud.  
  
"I mean, I must...I must get something to drink first."  
  
A servant knelt in front of him, already bearing a glass of cold water.  
  
Wendell stood anyway. "I need to use the royal bathroom," he announced stiffly. *They can't stop me from that* he thought. Although he did have a   
  
brief image of them trying.   
  
Escaping into the hallway, he looked behind, unsurprised to see his new manservant, Geoffrey, there. After Giles' death, they had had to pick a new   
  
man. Wendell had hoped it would be someone nearer his own age, not the tottering old man that stood before him. To make it worse, he had none of   
  
Giles' backbone.   
  
"What is it, Geoff?"  
  
The man bowed low, some unnamable bone popping as he did so. "I am your manservant. I-"  
  
"Yes, yes! I know that already." Wendell rolled his eyes, but Geoff didn't bother to notice. "I'm just going to relieve myself. Can I not do that   
  
alone anymore?"  
  
Geoff opened and shut his mouth like a dying fish. "I just thought, sire, that-"  
  
Wendell held up a hand, and then patted Geoff on the head with it. "Just go back in and keep my throne warm for me, hm?" He turned and hurried off,   
  
knowing that even if Geoff decided to follow he could easily outrun him.   
  
It was all just too much. So far this morning, he had had breakfast with an elvish dignitary, although there was little actual dignity involved on the elf's part, he had solved some fifty cases of amazingly dull disputes, and he had another fifty lined up. Then later there was dinner with an entourage of dwarves, followed by troll culture studies. He didn't know when they had slipped that into his schedule, but his advisors thought it would be important.  
  
Wendell slowed as he wandered down the halls of his castle, not seeing the servants who bowed and fawned over him as he walked by. It surprised even him when he approached the hallway that led to where they were hiding the Traveling Mirror.   
  
The hall was made of thick, solid stones and was long, with no windows. Down its entire length there were only two torches, and one had burned out. The faintest hint of something musky lingered in the air, but down here it could have been anything. Wendell stopped underneath the unlit torch, widening his eyes in the darkness.   
  
It wouldn't be that hard, really, to get to the Mirror. He was one of only three people in the entire kingdom that knew where the keys to this door   
  
were, and the other two were in the throne room right now. Which, upon reflection, probably wasn't the smartest idea, but he let that thought slide.   
  
*I could make a quick jaunt to the 10th Kingdom,* he thought. *I've only been there once, and since I was a dog that doesn't really count. I could check up   
  
on Virginia and Wolf. And its really rather unexplored, someone *should* go give it a thorough survey.* Even as he considered it, Wendell grew warmer to   
  
the idea.   
  
Spinning on one heel, he marched back down to the servant's quarters and straight into one of the rooms without bothering to knock. Even if someone had been in here, he wouldn't have felt too guilty about it. It was *his* castle, after all.   
  
The room was tiny, with one small bed, a wash bowl, a tiny mirror, and a trunk crowding what little space there was. He rooted through the trunk,   
  
pleased to see that whoever this was, the clothes they wore seemed just a little bit bigger than his own. Grinning, Wendell changed, leaving his own clothes   
  
laid out neatly on the man's bed. Wouldn't he be surprised when he returned later this evening? He had to laugh aloud at that, imagining the poor man's   
  
face. "I must make sure he doesn't get in trouble, though," he told the empty room. After another quick search, Wendell located pen and paper in a storeroom down the hall, and wrote a quick note saying he had 'gone out' for a bit and would be home by tomorrow. And not to blame this poor man for doing anything to the King. Studying the hasty letter, he nodded, signed it, sealed it, and lay it carefully on top of the clothes.  
  
He paused a moment to gape at himself in the man's small, dirty mirror. The shirt he wore was bigger than he had thought, and hung on him like a giant's sheets on a normal-sized bed. The pants had a hole -- an actual hole! -- in one of the knees, and the entire ensemble was a dull, perpetually dirty gray. "Fantastic," he murmured. Even as a dog he had never felt this common. It was refreshing.  
  
Inordinately pleased with his secret mission, Wendell was more cautious as he made his way to where the keys were kept. He disarmed the six traps and snatched up the keys, forcing himself to calmly walk back to the door. Finally! He would get his break. And, to top it off, it would be clandestine. His blood tingled with the excitement of it all. It was so rare he even got to sleep by himself anymore, let alone go off and do something.   
  
Arriving at the heavy door, the King stared at it before unlocking the locks -- middle, bottom, top -- amused to see his hand was trembling. "Come   
  
now, Wendell," he said softly, eyeing the door, "don't be afraid." It was made of solid ironwood, and had been constructed by two of the finest ironwoodsmiths in the Fourth Kingdom. "You've faced down some of the most evil creatures in all the nine--the ten kingdoms. This is just fun." Even though the nervousness was masking that fun pretty well at the moment.  
  
Wendell still couldn't bring himself to open the door. Truthfully, he had no real idea what the 10th Kingdom was like. What if it was dangerous or just dreadfully boring? Maybe he would be better off spending his mini-vacation somewhere he knew. Like Cinderella's kingdom. At least that way, if something unexpected happened, he had somewhere he could go. Besides, who would want to spend a vacation with Wolf and Virginia anyway? Not any sane person, and certainly not one who was single. The two spent more time making lovey-eyes at each other than breathing. It was enough to make a man sick. If not the tiniest bit jealous.   
  
"Well," he sighed, locking the door again. "Perhaps I'll visit when Antony goes back. Then at least I'll have a guide. And a distraction."   
  
Mollified with the back-up plan, Wendell retraced his steps, replacing the keys and resetting the traps. He kept the servant's clothes on, having decided that once he got outside he would rub some dirt on himself and truly get into the spirit of it. Part of him worried that he was relapsing into dog hood, which occasionally caught him at stressful times, but mostly he worried about how to get out.   
  
*There's always the obvious* he thought, heading back to the servant's room. He rooted through the clothes and came up with a thick, hooded, winter   
  
cloak. "Perfect." Wendell was smiling as he wrapped the smelly thing around himself. He was certain it hadn't been washed since it had been bought. That   
  
was even better!  
  
"Who would suspect the King would dare to show himself in this?" he asked the mirror, wiping off some of the dirt with his thumb. He wiped his thumb   
  
across his cheek, delighted to see the hint of a smudge form in its wake. "Oh this will indeed be enjoyable."   
  
Wendell had always considered himself an outdoorsman. He loved hunting, and the occasional overnight trip in the woods was not unheard of. But it   
  
hadn't been until recently that he had found the real benefit to being outdoors. Solitude. Blessed, underrated solitude. It was just man against nature, and the odd troll in past times. With the recent death of the Evil Queen and the Troll King, Wendell knew it would be safe in the Fourth Kingdom for at least a few years. And everyone knew that Happy Ever After never lasted as long as you hoped.  
  
What was that phrase Antony had taught him before he left? Carpe diem. 'Seize the day.' Well he was seizing it now! Nestling deeper into the cloak, Wendell headed straight for the castle entrance, walking like he had a purpose. He hoped that if he looked like he had a mission, no one would stop him. None of the servants took note of him, not even bothering to get out of his way. He almost yelled at them to move for their King before he realized that they didn't recognize him, which was exactly what he had wanted. Then he had had to keep himself from decloaking himself victoriously.   
  
Even the castle guards only gave him a cursory glance. More concern was given to those who were trying to enter the castle, and not those who were   
  
leaving. There was a long line waiting on the drawbridge, and the noise was astounding. Everyone seemed to be screaming at the top of their lungs, all at   
  
the same time. Didn't they realize that they were getting nothing accomplished that way?  
  
Wendell chanced a look at the guards, and saw the dull resignation in their eyes. He would have to remember to remedy this when he came back. A mob   
  
outside the castle presented a painfully unruly picture of his kingdom.  
  
And then he was free.  
  
There wasn't a sign saying, "Freedom starts here," but he felt as if there was. He glanced over his shoulder, and could hardly make out the forms of his guards amongst the crowd milling around outside. No one was paying attention to a servant on a mission.   
  
Wendell lifted his face up to the sky, the sunlight racing past the folds of the hood that he kept clutched around his head. He shut his eyes, letting the rays warm his eyelids and his cheeks, until he felt like he had been crying. Lowering his head, making sure his hood stayed in place, he chose a random direction and began walking. He had no food or water or clothing, but he wasn't worried. He didn't need any of that right now.   
  
He had his freedom.  
  
**********  
  
  
  
Melissa felt like a weight was tied to her feet as she trudged to the waiting limo.   
  
It had been an excruciatingly long day -- and it was only late afternoon. But they had done all of the last filming of her scenes, rushing them all to get everything completed on time. She also suspected the director sensed the growing apathy she was feeling towards her role and didn't want to chance his star walking out before everything was done.   
  
She slid onto the soft leather seat and leaned her head back against the headrest while the driver shut the door. Teresa had insisted on coming over   
  
later to make her special spaghetti sauce, but even the distant memory of spices and tomatoes couldn't get Melissa hungry. She hadn't eaten all day and wasn't planning on starting now. Her evening held a few glasses of wine and maybe a few shots of tequila in its future. The limo purred to life, the engine quiet and smooth as the driver pulled sedately out onto the empty street. Melissa turned her head a little, watching the scenery through the tinted windows. This movie was based in Los Angeles, which was a small blessing in and of itself, because it meant she could go home during filming and not have to stay in some ritzy hotel. Of course it also meant that they actually had to *film* in LA. And the dirty streets and sad houses that they were passing just depressed her.  
  
What depressed her more was that the people who lived in these houses were being paid to keep a city block away from the shoot. They were nearing that barricade now, made up of bright yellow, heavy plastic barriers. People were pressing at the edges, held off by the always-loveable LAPD. She could see the change in the bored, sullen crowd as they spotted her limousine pulling closer. People began to stand and wave their arms, and the group became a living thing, melting into itself until it become one being instead of many.  
  
She saw her driver, Jerry, glance at her in the rearview mirror and ignored it. He hated driving through the crowds, but Melissa always made him do it. She never admitted to herself why, because she did nothing but complain about the noise, but Teresa held a few choice theories. The sudden pounding on windows drove the rest of that out of her mind, replacing it with a headache. She saw the brief flash of faces, the dark metal of cameras, the shiny sunglasses of a cop. What did these people see in her?  
  
And wouldn't they be horrified to know how she saw herself.  
  
"Would you like any music, Ms. Duke?"  
  
*Good old Jerry* she thought, rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. He always asked her, even though she could do it all herself. It drove her insane, but she knew he meant well by it.   
  
"No, Jerry. Not today." It was the same answer she always gave. When had the exciting, whirlwind life she'd dreamed of fallen into this dull routine?  
  
Weren't actresses' lives the ones other women fantasized about?   
  
"Actually Jerry. Yes. Something soothing. No, better yet, something loud."  
  
He glanced at her in the rearview mirror again, his brow furrowed in surprise. "Really?" That one word was so filled with shock that it stopped her   
  
from answering immediately.  
  
Melissa inhaled slowly, the oiled leather smell working its way into her head, wrapping itself around her headache. "No," she sighed, leaning her head back against the headrest again. "Never mind." He continued on, peace filling his eyes as the world settled back into place. All she could hear in the limo was the harsh sound of her own breathing.   
  
**********  
  
Grojavek wished that She had been able to get him back as easily as She'd gotten him there. He had appeared immediately at Her call, and then, after She had told him what he was supposed to do, She'd sprinkled something over him and he had been at the Stupid King's castle.  
  
Now he had to walk all the way back, because She hadn't thought to give him any magic traveling dust. That just proved how much smarter he was than all of them. The mirror was growing heavier as he walked, his imp legs moving as fast as they could.   
  
He didn't know where he was, exactly. He just knew that if he kept walking this way, he would get home. Sniffing the air, his tiny nose could no   
  
longer pick up all the exciting scents it used to. Tiny noses weren't just ugly, they were useless! Groj dug a long, skinny finger into his ear, pulling   
  
out a sticky ball of wax. They were all stupid. Stupid and ugly. He licked the wax ball off of his finger and began chewing on it.  
  
He walked for a long time, muttering and giggling and chasing after the odd rodent. He wondered what the surprise would be, and spent several minutes tumbling around in deer droppings in his happiness. He loved surprises!  
  
As he kept walking, the mirror grew heavier and heavier, and bulkier. Groj looked at his pocket, and noticed the top of the mirror poking out.   
  
"Stupid mirror!" he squeaked, pushing down on it as hard as he could, until he tipped himself over. When he rolled back to his feet, the mirror was still   
  
sticking out of his pocket. The hint of a thought waved a tiny flag in the imp's mind, and was then lost amidst the shouting and shuffling of his nervous   
  
excitement.  
  
He pulled the mirror out of his pocket and lay it on the ground. Sniffing it carefully, unable to smell anything with his new, tiny nose, he walked around it several times. Then, when that didn't seem to do anything, he cartwheeled around it. It looked the same. He poked it with his finger. It felt the same.  
  
Groj dug for another wax treat while he attempted to think.  
  
It had fit in his pocket before, he knew that for sure. And it had gotten heavier the later it got. Maybe....the imp squinted his eyes until they were tiny slits, his whole face wrinkling with the effort. A bird perched in a nearby tree chirped softly, but still didn't manage to disrupt him, his   
  
concentration was so great.   
  
If it fit before and it didn't fit now that meant ... that meant ... Groj opened his eyes and screamed with excitement. He'd figured it out! His pockets were shrinking!   
  
The bird flapped off, terrified at the noise. He bounced around, his big feet making deep prints in the soil. Wait! Groj stopped mid-bounce, and then landed on his face. If his pockets were shrinking then how was he going to carry the mirror? She had warned him that if he lost it, he definitely would not be getting his surprise. His big, buggy eyes filled up with tears.   
  
He would carry it back. He had hoped to avoid doing too much work, in case Her surprise wasn't any good, but even a bad surprise was better than no   
  
surprise at all! Picking up the mirror, surprised at how heavy it was, he began tottering along, weaving back and forth as he went.  
  
Grojavek hadn't walked that far when his arms gave out and he dropped the mirror to the ground with a squeal. It bounced on the soft grass and didn't break, and he flopped onto his back in relief. He thought he had broken it! Now he would have to be really, really careful. But it was so heavy! And it only got heavier as he walked.  
  
Wait. Grojavek bolted upright again, terrified. His pocket wasn't shrinking at all! He knew that, now! The mirror was getting bigger and   
  
heavier, even when it wasn't in his pocket. That meant only one horrible, awful thing!  
  
He was shrinking!  
  
Oh it was too horrible to be imagined! What if he shrank until he disappeared? Or got stepped on! Or eaten by some horrible, hideous squirrel!   
  
The little imp began shaking all over, staring at the mirror as if it was cursed. He must have done something wrong with the dust. Hadn't She told him   
  
how to use it? This was Her fault! Growing purple-green with anger, Groj began stomping around, his emotions bouncing as unsteadily as his thoughts.   
  
He would show Her. The Imp Lands were a lot closer than Her stupid, suck-a-human, wolf-all palace. The Imps could use this mirror better than Her.   
  
Righteous with anger, Groj stumbled towards the mirror and hefted it up again. It had grown heavier even in just that short time. He would never make it home before he shrank into a little tiny nothing!   
  
Throwing it down, it bounced against a rock and a flash of light burst out of it as it started to hum.   
  
Grojavek shrieked, hiding himself behind a tree and peering out bravely. The mirror lay on the ground, and the surface glowing.   
  
"Muklavuk protect me!" he whispered, praying to the greatest, bravest, warrior Imp that ever walked the Nine Kingdoms. All imps knew that Muklavuk   
  
would help only the bravest imps, and so Groj stepped out from behind the tree and approached the humming, glowing, terrifying mirror.  
  
He stared at it for a long time, waiting for Muklavuk to come, but he never did. The glowing fizzed and fuzzed, and finally the picture formed into a room. No room he had ever seen before. There was a big, scary-looking black and white thing staring at him. It had four eyes, and a long thin nose. It was very square, and probably twice as big as he was. Soon it would be almost four times as big if he kept shrinking!  
  
Somewhere deep in the darkest recesses of Groj's brain, another thought fought for its freedom and drifted to the surface. She had accidentally told   
  
him what this mirror was. It was a traveling mirror. And no one could have missed the rumors of the newly discovered 10th Kingdom. He began panting with   
  
the effort of following the idea to its completion.  
  
This mirror. Why, this mirror went to the 10th Kingdom. They had great magic in the 10th Kingdom. If he went across ... Groj frowned and started the idea over. If he went across, they could help him. And the Imps could claim it for their own. Everyone knew how those stupid trolls had failed. They were hiding in their kingdom now, whining and crying. No one ever gave anything to the imps. They didn't even have their own kingdom. Licking his tiny lips, Grojavek giggled for a long minute.  
  
Muklavuk *had* come to help Grojavek. He was showing him the way to solve all of his problems -- and become the greatest imp of all! Squealing and   
  
giggling, Grojavek jumped into the mirror.  
  
**********  
  
Jerry pulled up to the immense gates of Melissa's home, waving at the gate guard who promptly buzzed them through.   
  
*Home at last* Melissa thought, watching as it grew larger until it towered over them. It was three stories, with, at last count, twelve rooms, an   
  
indoor pool and spa, a small fitness center, a movie-viewing room, a ballroom, a game room, and three bathrooms per floor. She had bought it when she was   
  
eighteen and used to throw huge, expensive parties. Now the beautiful mansion sat mostly unused. She put up her gardener, chauffeur, and house-cleaner for no rent because they kept it from getting too lonely. But in a house that size she rarely saw them anyway, and everyone seemed happy with the state of affairs.  
  
"Thank you Jerry," she said automatically when he stopped the limo and came around to open her door. She stood unaided and smoothed a hand over her   
  
hair.  
  
"Have a nice evening, Ms. Duke."  
  
"Mm. You too." She climbed up the twenty-five stairs -- she'd counted them long ago -- to the roomy front door, which stood open, waiting for her.   
  
Belinda, her house-cleaner, was there, as always, her hair restricted into a tight bun. The woman was not much older than Melissa, with beautiful, long red   
  
hair that she never wore loose. Melissa only knew it was long because she ran into her at night once, accidentally.   
  
"Good evening, Ms. Duke."  
  
"Belinda." Melissa stopped in the doorway, staring at the woman. Belinda met her gaze for a moment and looked away. Not out of fear, she knew, but   
  
etiquette. "How's Sport?"  
  
"Fine. He was sleeping, last I saw."  
  
"Did you have a nice day?" She lingered in the doorway, the wind pushing gently at her back and sneaking past into the house. Melissa didn't want to go inside, letting the door shut behind her and lock her into her house and her routine. Belinda was giving her the same stare Jerry had earlier. But still Melissa couldn't move, afraid to, as if the sameness of her life lurked inside like a monster. She could still turn around now, run back outside, escape through the gate. Escape from her life.  
  
She moved inside, instead, and Belinda hurriedly shut the door, as if she'd seen the craziness in Melissa's eyes.   
  
"You didn't answer my question, Belinda."  
  
"Yes, Ms."  
  
Melissa waited a beat, but apparently Belinda had answered the question. She wondered what the woman said to her friends over tea about her.  
  
"Good," Melissa sighed, moving through the entry room to the sweeping staircase. The inside of the mansion was airy, heavily decorated with windows   
  
and very little furniture. It had all been tastefully decorated when she bought it, in some period she could never remember the name of. There was lots of   
  
darkly stained wood and richly colored velvets that would look somber if not for all the sunlight. Every room had a wide skylight in addition to the windows, and only the bathroom and bedroom windows had curtains. Which annoyed and worried Teresa to no end, convinced that Melissa was inviting voyeurism and vandalism by leaving her property so open. Melissa knew she would die without that openness. She had lived in LA all her life, but she always felt more at home in wide, open spaces.  
  
The hallway was long and kept from draftiness by a plush carpet and lots of heating. These walls were bare as well, except for vases overflowing with real flowers on the small tables spaced some twenty feet apart. It gave the whole area the hint of being in a field.   
  
The wide, heavy doors to her room at the end of the hallway were partially open to allow Sport easy access. When she opened them all the way, he raised his large head and yawned a greeting at her.  
  
"Hello to you too," she said, genuinely smiling for the first time that day. The orange tabby pushed himself to his feet and lumbered off the bed to   
  
meet her. At his last vet visit, he'd weighed in at 17 pounds -- all healthy muscle according to Dr. Hatchinson. Sport trotted towards her, meeting her   
  
halfway across the room and tangling himself in her legs.  
  
She laughed and scooped him up in her arms with a grunt. "Sport! When you're my age, this will all turn to fat," she admonished him, planting a kiss on his furry belly. He meowed loudly, but the rumbling she felt through her fingertips belied his true pleasure.   
  
Next to the bed, she set him down to loud protests, and slipped off her shoes. "You wouldn't believe the day I had," she sighed, padding barefoot to   
  
her closet. It was a walk-in as big as a small room. Sport jumped off the bed again and sauntered in after her, examining her dresses. He batted idly at a   
  
dangling string while she talked.   
  
Melissa told him everything as she changed out of her dress into a pair of old, worn jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. How much she hated this role, one in a long line of romantic comedies. How tired she was of acting in general. And how frightened she felt at looking into her future and seeing no hope for anything better. Sport listened patiently, following her back out of the closet and re-settling himself on the bed.  
  
She finished and he was still watching her with his wise green eyes, somehow understanding. "You're my best friend," she murmured, stroking the top   
  
of his head. The words left her feeling sad.  
  
"Well," Melissa straightened, leaving him meowing unhappily behind her. "Terry should be here soon, I guess. I'll get the kitchen ready for her." Not that she needed the help, Melissa knew. Teresa was more familiar in her kitchen than Melissa was herself.  
  
She had just exited her room when she heard Belinda scream.  
  
**********  
  
Grojavek had been in an imp's version of paradise from the moment he stepped through the mirror.   
  
The rectangular monster with the huge nose had turned out to be an oven. And there were rows of marvelous cupboards, each one filled with a surprise. Round, heavy containers with pictures of food and wonderful metal pots that crashed noisily when he threw them across the floor.   
  
He was rolling around the middle of the floor, which was made of hundreds of odd white squares, laughing and squeaking with excitement when a human woman came in and ruined all his fun by screaming.   
  
He shrieked and, terrified, ran into one of the cupboards and slammed the door shut behind him. The woman stopped screaming and began shouting loudly enough to bruise his poor ears.   
  
"Rat! RAT!" she yelled over and over. Groj clamped his hands over his ears and whimpered in the darkness. Stupid human! Didn't she know any better? He was just getting his courage up to go out and tell her when another human voice cut in.   
  
"Belinda! What is it? Are you all right?" It was another woman. Groj groaned. He was really starting to hate human women. At least that first one had shut up.  
  
"Ms. Duke! It was horrible! There was a huge green rat in here. I was," he heard the woman take a gigantic breath, and thought for a moment she was going to try and blow him out of his hiding place like a wolf. "I was," she continued talking instead, "coming in here because I'd heard noises. I thought it was Sport. But I saw it, right out in the middle of the floor. Look at this mess!"  
  
Groj hoped the woman was as stupid as she sounded, and wouldn't know where he had run.  
  
"All right. Where did it go?"  
  
"You don't believe me."  
  
"Of course I believe you. I just asked you where it went, didn't I?"  
  
"You had a tone." One of the women sniffed.   
  
"I didn't have a tone."   
  
"Of course, Ms. Duke."  
  
"Belinda." Groj grinned to himself at how she sounded. His mother always said his name the same way. "Just tell me where it went."  
  
"I think it went that way." There was a pause and Groj pushed himself farther back. "What are you going to do with it?"  
  
"Find it, first."  
  
He heard her start to move, and then the opening and shutting of cupboard doors. He shifted from foot to foot, struggling not to squeal in fear.   
  
"And then?"  
  
"And then I'll kill it."  
  
Grojavek squeaked in terror. She was going to kill him!  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
His bug-eyes widened even further and he pressed his lips tightly shut. She had heard him! She would find him and then she was going to kill him. Kick an elf! He was going to die here! With an ugly nose!  
  
A bell rang in the sky outside, and Groj was sure it signaled his death. He started to cry.  
  
"That's Terry. Listen, why don't you go rest and I'll take care of this. Just let Terry in on your way up, ok?"  
  
He didn't hear the other woman's response, but he also didn't hear anymore cupboard door noises, either. Then they started up again and he felt his   
  
bravery crumble. He was going to die in the 10th Kingdom, and no one would ever know.  
  
At least none of the other imps would have seen his ugly nose.  
  
**********  
  
"Rat problems?"  
  
Melissa jumped at the noise, engrossed in searching her cupboards for a green rat. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "Belinda said she saw   
  
one. A green one, if you believe that."  
  
Terry smiled, setting her purse and a paper bag bursting with food on the counter. "Hard to say. You never do give your hired help drug tests."  
  
Sighing, Melissa shut another cupboard door. "Don't start that. They've all been working for me for years now, I think I could have figured it out   
  
before this. Besides," she gestured at the pans and cans scattered over the kitchen floor, "how do I explain this?"  
  
"Maybe Belinda had someone over who had a child, and the child made the mess. Maybe she's just covering up because she thinks you're going to fire   
  
her."  
  
"Jesus, Terry, when did you get so cynical?"  
  
Teresa sighed. "I'm sorry. It's Frank. I had to do his make-up today, too, and you know how he is." Melissa knew too well. Frank was playing her   
  
father in this movie, and she often found herself wishing the character had been an orphan instead. He was one of the most dour, pessimistic people she had ever met, and never let a chance slip by where he could complain about it. Melissa had feared that her time spent with him over these past months was part of the reason she was feeling so awful, but she knew that was just a convenient excuse.  
  
"I don't know why she added the 'green,' specifically," she said, trying desperately to stop her thoughts. "I didn't ask her what color it was. What else is green that lives in Los Angeles kitchens?"  
  
Terry snorted indelicately. "Mold."  
  
Melissa smiled at that, and shut another cupboard door after shoving the missing pans back in it. "Attack of the Kitchen Mold? Sounds like a good   
  
flick."  
  
"You'd be wonderful in it," Terry agreed seriously. "I'm going to start making the sauce. Hi Sporty, how are you?" Melissa glanced over and saw the orange tabby saunter into the room, brushing up against Terry's legs on his way by. He stopped over by her, sniffing at the open cupboard.   
  
"I was going to turn on the stove but..." Melissa waved at the messy floor. She scratched Sport behind the ears and then shoved another pot into the   
  
cupboard. "When did I get so many pots? I don't recall ever buying any of these." She straightened, holding a wafflemaker in her hand. "I don't even   
  
*like* waffles."  
  
Sport stalked over to a closed cupboard farther down the row and started growling deep in his throat, the hairs on his tail standing on end. From   
  
inside, Melissa heard something squeak. Grinning victoriously, she moved over to the door and gently tried to push Sport aside. "Look at you, Sport. When   
  
did you become a ratter?" When he didn't move, she pushed harder until he finally gave way, just on the verge of hissing.  
  
She felt Terry's presence behind her and looked up.   
  
"What are you going to do if the rat is actually in there?" the other woman asked.   
  
Melissa frowned. "I was going to kill it, but-"  
  
"But how."   
  
"Exactly." She turned a questioning gaze to Terry. "Any ideas? Besides rattraps. I need something immediate, since we know where he is." Sport had gone back to the door and was tugging at it with his paw, trying to get it open. Whatever was inside started scrambling around and squeaking more loudly. "Sport," she pushed him away more forcefully but he came back again anyway, spitting and hissing.  
  
"All right fine," she said, frustrated. "You can have it." Melissa stepped back and pulled the door open.  
  
**********  
  
Groj heard the woman's words and shrieked, knowing he would die soon. Whatever this 'Sport,' was, it was certain to be some horrible Tenth Kingdom   
  
monster. Whispering Muklavuk's name over and over, he waited until he saw the first light, and threw himself at the door, tumbling out onto the ground. He   
  
passed some big orange, hairy thing and the two women and smashed into the cabinet door on the other side. One of the women shouted, "Imp!" and he stopped   
  
to look up at them. They were staring back down, obviously in shock. He looked for the big orange thing and was not happy to see that it was a cat. He hated cats.   
  
"Muklavuk help me!" he squealed, as he heard the sudden shouting and Sport's renewed growling. Without looking, the little imp leapt to his feet and   
  
ran the only direction he could. He skidded across the floor, unable to get enough purchase to stop himself before he crashed into the wall. Falling onto   
  
his back, he rolled to his side as Sport landed where he had been. "Ack!" he cried, continuing to roll until he got back onto his feet. He spotted the   
  
shimmering ahead that had to be his way back home and ran for it like She was chasing him.   
  
**********  
  
Melissa could only stare at the green thing as it tumbled out of her cupboard and into the other wall. Then Terry had shouted something and they had   
  
all paused to get a good look at each other. It was so oddly like a scene from a movie that by the time Melissa had stopped looking for cameras, the badly-  
  
mangled, green gremlin looking creature had taken off again, followed by Sport.   
  
It slammed into the wall and she couldn't help but wince, although it got immediately to its feet and kept running. Sport pounced where it had been and then skidded into the wall himself, and even he didn't seem to feel it as he turned to the left to follow, chasing the green creature around the large middle island. As she hurried that way, she saw something iridescent in the corner, even as the creature ran into it. The wall flashed brightly, blinding her for a moment.   
  
"What the hell?" she gasped, blinking her eyes furiously. She came around the island and got to the shimmering space just as Sport jumped through it. "SPORT!" she cried, leaping in after him without thinking. She thought she heard Terry calling her name behind her before all sound disappeared.   
  
Melissa had an endless moment to be frightened, sure that somehow she had died. It was all black and silence, and she couldn't even hear her own heart beating.   
  
And then light and noise rushed back over her like a tidal wave and she stumbled to the ground. She fell, her hands hitting soft grass when she caught herself. Behind her, there was another burst of noise and Teresa lurched to a stop beside her. Breathing hard, Melissa could only stare at the grass for a long minute before she convinced herself to look up.   
  
They were on the edge of a forest. She saw Sport run into it and then his small form disappeared.   
  
"Oh my God," Melissa whispered hoarsely. "Where are we?"  
  
**********  
  
Rena listened to the wind. She had not been able to hear the sea speaking since she'd given up her fins for the Prince. There had been a time when she regretted that loss, but that time had passed. Now she understood the wind, its words and its power. Sometimes it was too much for even her to control. And sometimes, the wind did only what it wanted, for no real reason at all. But mostly it was hers to command and manipulate.   
  
It told her now of the imp's mistakes and disappearance into the mirror. He had failed differently than she had expected, and that would require more planning. But an imp could only do so much, and she was certain that he would not surprise her again.  
  
Rena dismissed the wind, and the cave she lived in grew very still with its departure. She had chosen this spot for its silence, that she could better hear when the wind whispered. In its absence, the silence became material, bullying away the endless crashing of waves on the nearby shore.  
  
So few people understood what a true lack of noise was like. It got so quiet even your breathing sounded like you were screaming.  
  
Rena understood it. It was the same emptiness as death had been. She touched one of the cold, stone walls and smiled. When her plan was fulfilled,   
  
this was as close as she would ever get to death again.  
  
**********  
  
Melissa got slowly to her feet, trying to watch every direction at once. She looked behind her and saw a mirror on the ground, its surface glowing   
  
brightly. Next to her, Teresa was staring at the forest, her face very pale.  
  
"Are you all right?" Melissa whispered.  
  
Teresa slowly shifted her gaze to Melissa and nodded.  
  
"Where's Sport?" She continued to talk softly, though there was no reason to.   
  
"The forest. He ran into the forest." Teresa whispered, too.  
  
"I guess we should get him." When Terry remained quiet, Melissa took her hand and started walking. *This is either one hell of a dream or I've suffered a massive concussion.* She'd never had a dream this vibrant before, and since she had last been running head first for a wall, she guessed it was probably a concussion. *Maybe when I find Sport I'll wake up.* She hoped that was true. The smell of pine trees and wet earth was distressingly strong. A small voice in her head kept insisting that this place was as real as it seemed.   
  
She squeezed Terry's hand to comfort both of them. The other woman still looked alarmingly pale. "I wonder why you're here," Melissa mused aloud.  
  
Terry kept her gaze on the trees as she said, "Because I jumped into the mirror after you."  
  
"No, I mean --" an eerie yowl ahead interrupted her. It was Sport, and it sounded like he was hurt. Panicked, Melissa dropped Terry's hand and ran into the forest to find him, shouting to Teresa to follow.  
  
She burst into the forest's interior, the shadows swallowing her footsteps and most of her wavering courage. But she had heard Sport, and it had come from this direction.  
  
"Sporty? Sport, where are you?" Melissa trod carefully, watching each step. Trees pressed in all around her, tall and enormously thick. The branches drooped towards the ground, laden with thousands of heavy leaves. Now that the sun was going down, its light was easily overcome as it tried to creep feebly into the dusky forest.   
  
All in all, it sent a chill racing up Melissa's spine.  
  
"Come on Sport. Leave the gremlin thing alone."  
  
No birds twittered happily here, or even seemed to move about the trees. Instead there was a soft wind, the rustling of some animals in the brush, and her own voice.  
  
Melissa looked behind her, realizing that Terry hadn't followed her into the forest. She cursed softly and turned to go back when she heard the same   
  
yowling from deeper within. Pausing indecisively, she rubbed one hand over her face. Which friend should she go back for? When Sport's hurt cry turned into one of fear, her mind was made up.  
  
"Just stay there," Melissa murmured to both of her lost friends, before taking off after Sport.  
  
**********  
  
Wendell crouched in the bushes and tried not to breathe. A few meters in front of him, a young stag was calmly grazing grass, keeping his watchful eyes open. He just needed one more step, and then Wendell would have dinner.  
  
His hand was sweaty on the knife's hilt and he tried not to think of how sharp the ends of the antlers were. *Perhaps I should have borrowed a hunting bow, instead* he thought. As he crouched here, the sweat itching down the side of his face, he couldn't remember what had possessed him to take the knife. Since he's made his decision to 'escape' from the castle he'd felt a piercing recklessness that surprised him in these quiet moments.   
  
After he'd gotten out of the guards' view earlier, he had rubbed dirt onto his face and clothes and simply started walking. There were small farms all along the road; carts and people passed both ways. No one had even noticed him.  
  
Sometime by mid-afternoon, hunger made his stomach tight so he paused at an empty farmhouse. There had been food there, but he couldn't steal it from out of his people's mouths. Instead he took a wicked looking hunting knife and promised the empty room he'd return it later.   
  
After also equipping himself with a flask of water and rope for a snare, Wendell had disappeared into the Royal Forest to set the trap and wait. He had imagined it would be a rabbit that tripped it.   
  
The stag lifted its head, its nostrils flaring as it took in some scent that Wendell could never catch. Not anymore, at least. He knew the smells were there now, and he missed the ability he'd had as a dog. Then he'd only had to sniff, and a hundred images presented themselves. He sniffed now, but could only taste the pungent tang of the bush he crouched behind.   
  
*If I were a dog* he thought, *I could smell how old that stag was. Where it had come from. Why, if I were a dog I could leap out and chase him down. Catch him after a good hunt! Rip out his throat and gorge myself on meat!* Overwhelmed with excitement, Wendell began barking furiously. The stag bolted away from him and Wendell followed on all fours, still barking.  
  
After only a few seconds, the stag was gone.  
  
Wendell whined and sat back on his haunches. He stared down at his hand, wondering briefly where his paws were.  
  
"Suck an elf!" He scrambled to stand on his feet, breathing hard. "You are NOT a dog. You are King Wendell, the human." He stared at his hands,   
  
convincing himself they were supposed to look like that.  
  
It had been an unforeseen side effect of the Queen's powerful spell that he occasionally went 'doggy.' As the weeks passed it was easier to control, but in stressful times Wendell could forget himself and start acting like a bloody fool. It was small comfort that Prince still had his 'human' moments.  
  
Wendell wiped his hands on his shirt, shaking slightly. One more day as a dog and he never would have found himself again. That was more frightening than the nightmares.  
  
Up ahead, Wendell heard a strange yowling by some creature he thought he recognized. It sounded like it was in pain. Curious, Wendell pushed his way through the underbrush toward the noise. He tried to make as much noise as he could while still walking quietly, undecided whether he wanted to run into an injured, unknown animal or not.   
  
After several minutes' walk, the noise had stopped and Wendell still hadn't found the creature. He'd wandered into a small clearing, walled in on   
  
all sides by tall trees and thick brush. Very little light broke through here and he kept squinting to try and see something. Anything other than the   
  
shadowed trees and black bushes. Directly behind him, the yowling started again, accompanied by heavy rustling of the undergrowth. Wendell spun, his   
  
knife held ready, and peered into the thick shadows.  
  
The strange cry changed into a noise Wendell recognized -- that of a very frightened cat. He instinctively growled in response and then caught himself. Rolling his eyes at his own behavior, Wendell squatted down and held out his empty hand.  
  
"Come here, cat," he told it expectantly. The cat looked at him, quiet for a moment, and started meowing pitifully again. "Cat. Come here." He made small gestures to it, to no effect. Frowning, he scooted closer, but the cat, a huge one from what he could see, hissed at him. "Do you wish my help or not?" It stared at him, its eyes glowing faintly in the dark.  
  
When the bushes started rustling again, both stood and turned to look. Wendell slipped his knife to his hand while the cat started crying more loudly.  
  
"Sport!" It was a woman's voice, followed closely by the woman herself. She ran into the clearing and scooped the cat into her arms with surprising   
  
ease. Uncertain of this stranger, Wendell watched her closely while she kissed the cat all over.  
  
"Are you all right, Sporty? I heard you crying." She planted a kiss on the cat's belly and Wendell sighed. It was just a cat after all. "I was   
  
worried about you," she continued.  
  
Wendell cleared his throat loudly to put a stop to the unseemly display. The woman jumped, nearly dropping Sport.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, grasping the cat closer. The shadows effectively hid her face, but Wendell imagined it was furious by her   
  
tone of voice.  
  
"I'm Ki-" he stopped and began again. "Wendell. Just Wendell. Who are you, miss?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
He raised one eyebrow in surprise. It was not unexpected, though. He was as much a stranger to her as she was to him. "I did tell you my name," he said softly. "Melissa."   
  
He waited but she offered no further pleasantries. "And that is your cat, then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Wendell nodded. This was going well -- so far she didn't realize who he was. "And its name is Sport?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Is he injured?"  
  
She looked down at the cat, shifting him in her arms. "Not really."   
  
He pursed his lips, not sure how to carry on a conversation with a peasant. What sort of things did commoners discuss? "Good crop this year?"  
  
She stared at him in silence. *Obviously not a farmer* he decided.  
  
"Listen," she said, "I'll just take Sport and leave you and your forest alone. I'm leaving!" she shouted to the sky for some reason. She looked around at the trees and sighed heavily. "Why didn't that work? I found Sport."  
  
"You have to actually walk out to leave the forest," Wendell supplied. She didn't seem to be very intelligent.  
  
"Right. I probably have to find Teresa, too. I wonder what Freud would say about this?"  
  
*Probably that you're not playing 'Happy Families' with a full deck* Wendell thought. He didn't say it aloud, afraid to upset her in her obviously   
  
delicate condition. She must have a very hard life. "Do you need help?"  
  
Melissa was staring at him again. He wished he could see her well enough to see her expression.  
  
"I know who you are," she said slowly.  
  
*Oh blasted elf wings* Wendell sighed. *Now the whole thing will be ruined.* "There's no need to treat me any differently."  
  
"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of it. You don't look anything like him, though. That's kind of odd."  
  
"Really?" Wendell smiled. "That is exactly what I had hoped to hear."  
  
"Whatever." Melissa turned and started back the way she'd come. "You can help if you want. I don't plan on being here long enough for it to matter."  
  
Intrigued by her easy acceptance, and a strange desire to see her face, Wendell hurriedly followed. She made good time through the thick foliage, her arms wrapped around Sport.  
  
"You certainly are blunt for a commoner," Wendell said when he'd caught up.  
  
Melissa laughed dryly. "That is so typical of you. You always did think you were better than everyone else."  
  
He frowned, perplexed. She was not like he imagined at all. "I don't interact with many of my people, I'm afraid. I expected it to be rather   
  
different. More..." he gestured vaguely. "Groveling, I suppose."  
  
"Groveling! You got more than enough before. There's no way I'm doing that again."  
  
"Before?" Now he was truly confused. "Have we met?"  
  
"Jesus." That one word dripped with disgust. "You may not look like Rob right now, but you're certainly stupid and arrogant enough to convince me."  
  
Wendell gasped. "Stupid and arrogant? You are speaking to the King!"  
  
"The King of Assholes. I thought I paid my dues in life. Why are you bothering me again? Here?" She was taking long, swift strides now. Wendell   
  
was angry enough to easily keep up.  
  
"I'll have you know --"  
  
"Teresa!" Melissa broke into a run, crunching helpless plants underfoot as she made for the silhouetted figure at the forest's edge.  
  
"Well if that isn't the Queen's own, I don't know what is," Wendell huffed. This peasant was nothing like he'd expected. He took more care exiting   
  
the forest, trying not to crush any more plants. A Dandy Lion growled at him as he walked past, one of its leaves ripped off. Wendell grunted, his mind racing with thoughts of how cruel, rude, ill tempered, and un-educated the woman was. He stepped out of the forest, fully prepared to give her a piece of his mind, when his mind slipped away from him.  
  
The sun had almost set now, but the last red and orange rays lay long across the grass and the two women who watched him. He noticed, vaguely, that   
  
one was older, probably Antony's age, with short hair and kind eyes. But it was the other woman, the one he knew was Melissa, that had stolen his senses.  
  
In the forest's shadows, Wendell had seen only hints of long, dark hair and sharp features. In the waning light, he also saw the striking beauty of her finely boned face, but even that meant nothing when he looked into her eyes. They were startling in their intensity, gray like a stormy morning sky. Deep within them, he saw a weariness with life that his soul responded to. Wendell knew, without knowing why, that she would understand him if he told her of all his hopes and despair. A part of him that had lain dormant all his life rose up, shouting into his soul about kindred spirits and eternity. He wanted to grab her and tell her all the things that had lay heavy on him since the Evil Queen had first turned him into a dog.  
  
*But* he thought, seeing the shadows that darkened her eyes, *She will have to listen, first.*  
  
"Why haven't we left yet?" she said, breaking the quiet spell that had wrapped him up.   
  
"Are you ... asking ... me?" Wendell ventured slowly. He felt odd, like a fog had gripped his mind. He remembered being very angry, but couldn't feel it anymore.   
  
Melissa's whole body drooped. "This is the damndest dream I've ever had."   
  
"Dream?" The first rays of dread pierced the fog. "You think you're dreaming?"  
  
"How else do I explain this? Meeting some handsome, arrogant guy in a forest. Jumping at a wall and landing here. A glowing mirror. It's all to   
  
much to be anything else."  
  
She babbled on for another minute while the word 'mirror' echoed deafeningly for Wendell. "By Snow White's grave," he breathed. "You've come   
  
through a traveling mirror. You must be from the Tenth Kingdom." He stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders, cutting her off. "Where did you get a   
  
traveling mirror?" It took all of his control to keep from shouting.  
  
"Let me go."  
  
"Tell me where you got the mirror, Melissa." Whatever haze had draped over him before had blown away entirely.   
  
"Screw you. I don't have to tell you anything." She squirmed in his grasp, but he held on. Sport hissed warningly at him.  
  
"There is only one traveling mirror left in all the Nine Kingdoms. That one is in my castle. This is a matter of national security. Now tell me where it is!" He shouted the last part and saw her spellbinding eyes flash.  
  
"You arrogant son of a bitch. I'm not going to tell you anything. You're just a dream!"  
  
Wendell squeezed her arms and then let her go. "It's not a dream. You're in the Fourth Kingdom now. You came from the Tenth Kingdom. Virginia called it New York, I believe." He rubbed the back of his neck. He doubted she would take this well. "I'm King Wendell, ruler of the Fourth Kingdom, grandson of Snow White."  
  
Melissa barked a laugh, and Sport meowed softly. "Snow White? Like the fairy tale? What about Cinderella?"  
  
"She still rules the First Kingdom."  
  
"She ... rules..." Melissa took a step away, narrowing her eyes. "This is crazy."  
  
Teresa cut off Wendell's retort. "But it's true."  
  
Wendell and Melissa both turned to stare at the other woman. Her kind eyes had lost their dazed sheen.  
  
"What?" Melissa whispered.  
  
"You know its true, hon. Can't you feel it?"  
  
"People don't just jump through mirrors into other worlds."  
  
"Some do."  
  
"Some have," Wendell added. "There is a man here now from your world. And surely you've heard of the valiant adventures of Virginia?"  
  
Melissa shook her head. "Not unless you're talking about the state."  
  
"No. She is one of the Four Who Saved the Nine Kingdoms."  
  
"Great."  
  
"Melissa, please. We can discuss this later. Tell me where you got the mirror."  
  
She clenched Sport more tightly, keeping distance between herself, Teresa, and Wendell. "I didn't get it anywhere. We were in my kitchen... I can't   
  
believe this is true. I was running at a wall, why can't I be unconscious?"  
  
The plaintive tone of voice made Wendell wish it were so, if only for her sake. She sounded terribly frightened.   
  
Teresa spoke again. "Sometimes life goes beyond what you can see, dear. Sometimes you just have to feel."  
  
"Where is the mirror?" Wendell insisted. He had to know.  
  
Those startling eyes merely watched him, and he saw the tumultuous war of her thoughts within. "You can only get back home through the mirror, Melissa. There is no other way. If I must, I will wait until you return to it to go home and find it then. Save us all from that nonsense and tell me where it is."   
  
Resignation flickered across her beautiful features. "We left it over that rise."  
  
He saw the rise easily enough and started running towards it.  
  
He heard Melissa shout after him to wait, but he didn't stop until he'd crested the grassy knoll. The two women stopped next to him a short minute   
  
later, and he heard Melissa's distinct groan.  
  
"It's gone."  
  
**********  
  
Grojavek stomped an innocent plant and then crushed another out of spite. He had made it out of the Tenth Kingdom alive, and even managed to bite that horrible cat, but now he'd lost the mirror!  
  
He knew Muklavuk wanted him to bring it to the Imps so they could have their own kingdom, with Groj as the ruler. Groj had always wanted to be a   
  
ruler, not just an imp to use and abuse. He would be a wise king. And the most handsome, if he could get his nose fixed. He went cross-eyed trying to see it before he toppled dizzily to the ground.  
  
That nose was a problem he couldn't solve, yet. She would be able to fix it, but he didn't think She would without the mirror. She would probably just kill him if he arrived without it.  
  
Groj sighed miserably. He hated risking his life so much. This wasn't what the future Imp King should be doing.   
  
He was certain Muklavuk would take care of Her once She let Groj in. But Groj had to get the mirror first.  
  
"Stupid woman!" he pouted, punching the earth futilely. He got up and then threw himself back to the ground and buried his face in the soil. Ideas   
  
fought for their lives in the craziness of his mind. He had to find the mirror! But where was it?   
  
Groj raised his head, slurping up an earthworm stuck to his lip. His buggy eyes gleamed with excitement. He knew where the mirror was! That   
  
horrible cat had chased him out of it and if those stupid women hadn't broken it, he could find it again. He leapt to his feet, giggling. Groj hadn't been   
  
this happy since he'd stolen that elf-all mirror.  
  
Skipping and squealing, Grojavek scurried off to retrieve it, planning what his first laws would be. He was going to be king!  
  
**********  
  
"Don't panic," Wendell said, as much to himself as the two women. "Maybe we just can't see it from up here because it's almost dark."  
  
Thirty minutes and a thorough search were all it took to prove that theory wrong. It had also given him enough time to decide that someone must have   
  
stolen the mirror from his castle. The first mirror was hopelessly shattered and most of the pieces were hiding in a barn near Kissingtown anyway. The   
  
second mirror, according to Gustav, was at the bottom of the Great North Sea. No one knew where, and none could find anything in that ocean, it was far too   
  
deep.  
  
That left only his own mirror, and a few slim possibilities. Figuring out it had been stolen wasn't the hard part. The hard part was how? And why? He pulled back another bush to find only more bushes and exhaled heavily. And who.   
  
Wolf and Virginia had keys to get out of the Mirror room if they ever arrived unannounced. It was possible that they were here and had forgotten to   
  
lock the door behind them, letting some thief in. But Virginia was too paranoid about it being stolen again for that to realistically happen. Very little could keep her from making sure everything was properly locked.   
  
Wendell felt his stomach turn. What if they came over while the mirror was missing? Something terrible could happen to his two dearest friends.  
  
The whole experience made him sick. How could someone get to the mirror unless they had a key? There was simply no way to sneak something that size   
  
out. Either great betrayal or great magic was at work here -- and he hated the thought of either option.  
  
He trudged back up to the top of the rise to wait for Melissa and Teresa, who were still valiantly searching. Both had looked unhappy when they'd found the mirror missing, but it was Melissa who worried him the most. She was frantic, even now, going over bushes that had already been searched, and peering under places that would never hide a mirror. She hadn't even let go of Sport, and the cat had started to struggle in her arms.  
  
Still, Wendell was glad for the time alone. He was afraid of looking into Melissa's eyes again. Every time he did, that same thick desire enveloped him, leaving him helpless.   
  
He was too much his grandmother's blood to not know what was happening. Beyond all rational thought and though he'd known her no more than an hour,   
  
Wendell White was falling desperately in love.  
  
The ramifications of that were all too rational and real, however.   
  
He watched her now in the early evening's dark, as she knelt to flip a rock over. There was no doubt that she was beautiful, but Wendell had known   
  
many beautiful women as Prince, and especially as King, and none of them had had this effect. Up until now, they had never been more important to him than a   
  
treasured tapestry.   
  
Melissa was like the painting hanging in his room, the one that had been done by his father. He could recall it instantly -- a simple, lonely cottage by a clear stream. Wendell had never had a chance to ask him if it meant anything. It was one of the few things he had to remember the man he had hardly known, and it was more important to him than any of the riches scattered throughout his castle. She felt familiar to him. Loved and trusted.   
  
*Catch hold of yourself, Wendell! You don't even know her. Look what she did to those plants, and how she treated you.*  
  
He rubbed the side of his nose thoughtfully. *But she thought she was dreaming. She thought I was some man named 'Rob.' It is to be expected that   
  
she reacted badly.*  
  
*Even so,* he continued the internal dialogue, keeping an eye on the women, *Don't be an idiot. You don't know her. At all. Not even a tiny bit.   
  
She could be as awful as the Queen. Not every woman who comes through that Mirror will be like Virginia.*  
  
*It doesn't matter. I would love her still.* His mouth dropped open, forming an 'O.' "It's true," he whispered softly. He cursed vehemently to   
  
himself. He couldn't love a woman he didn't know. It just wasn't possible.   
  
She was climbing the small rise slowly, her face creased with emotional fatigue. He started to move towards her, to take her in his arms, and forcibly stopped himself. "No luck, either?" he said instead.  
  
Melissa frowned at him, sending chills up his arms, and sighed. "No. None at all. How could we have lost a mirror that size? I don't get it."  
  
"Someone must have come through and seen it. It happens quite a lot here."   
  
"Then 'someone' needs to be taught to leave things alone." Melissa settled onto the ground, still clutching Sport, who was looking resigned.  
  
"Who's Rob?"  
  
"What?"   
  
Wendell hid a grimace while asking himself the same thing. Where had those words come from? "Earlier. In the forest. You called me 'Rob.'"  
  
"Oh." He caught some dark emotion in her face before she turned it away from him. "He's my ex-husband."  
  
Wendell's breath caught in his throat and struggled to get past the lump that burned there. "Is he ... dead?"  
  
"Not likely." He thought that she sounded disappointed. "We divorced years ago. Listen, I apologize for that. I thought this was all fake.   
  
Frankly, I still do."  
  
He swallowed, hard, and tried to smile. "No need to apologize. Virginia had it a little easier when we first met because I was a talking dog."  
  
Melissa blinked slowly. "A talking dog?"  
  
"I was under a spell."  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"I was," he said, his fingers clenching.   
  
"And now you're a king?"  
  
"Yes. Ruler of the Fourth Kingdom."  
  
"New spell?"  
  
"What? No. Why would-" he looked down at his ragged peasant's clothing, touched his dirty cheeks, and laughed. "It is rather a good disguise, isn't it?" he asked proudly.  
  
"I'll say," she muttered. He was saved from further comment by Teresa's arrival. Melissa rushed over to the older woman, talking quietly and making   
  
sure she was all right. It was obvious that they cared very much for each other. He would have thought Teresa was her mother, except it was impossible.   
  
Melissa could not have been descended from someone so plain. It wasn't due to anything that Teresa lacked, it was just that Melissa had so much.   
  
"Now what?" She was talking to him again, looking at him strangely. *I hope she didn't catch me staring* he thought.  
  
"That is a good question." Wendell looked up, noting that the moon was hanging just on the edge of the horizon. It was half-full, which would provide only a little light. "Our best option is to get some sleep. We have no idea where the mirror went, and we won't be able to see well enough to find a trail until morning. It will be safe here."  
  
She eyed him with a disturbing amount of distrust, before finally setting Sport down. The cat meowed gratefully and stretched himself out, favoring one paw.   
  
"Is your cat all right?"  
  
"Yeah. He just has a small cut. Are you all right to stay, Terry?"  
  
The older woman nodded. "I'm too tired to continue on tonight anyway. Do you have any food, Wendell?"  
  
Wendell bit his lower lip in dismay. Where had his recklessness come from that he had left the castle without any food at all? "I'm afraid not, madam. I know some of the plants in the forest are edible..." he trailed off, remembering the rabbit trap he'd set earlier. He snapped his fingers and beamed. "I *might* have a little meat. You two stay here, and I will return in a while."   
  
They stared at him silently.   
  
Taking that as acceptance, he turned, stopped, and looked back. "Don't. Move." He punctuated each word with a shake of his finger, and then was off into the forest again.   
  
He had to backtrack to where he'd first entered the forest and followed the small stream back to where he'd set the trap. The entire time he struggled to keep thoughts of Melissa at bay. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through an entire evening with her near. Sleep would probably be out of the question.  
  
"The Queen's own," he cursed softly. "I'm as bad as Wolf. I have to get this under control. The Ruler of the Fourth Kingdom can not just blindly fall for some unknown woman." Satisfied that this reminder would see him through, he realized he had passed the trap and had to find his way back in the almost solid dark.   
  
Ahead he heard the soft sounds of a struggle, and when he came out of the bushes, the rabbit doubled its frantic efforts to get away. He pulled out his knife and knelt down next to the little creature, who had grown absolutely still except for the sharp in-and-out movement of his sides. Wendell looked into the rabbit's wide, wild eyes, and lowered the knife.  
  
A woman who kissed the stomach of her cat -- who would follow her cat into a Traveling Mirror in the first place -- would not likely appreciate the fact that he brought her rabbit for dinner.  
  
"We have to eat," he told the little rabbit. It twitched its nose and waited for death. "This sort of thing happens all the time. I have had rabbit before, and its quite tender." Still it waited.   
  
"Suck an elf," he hissed, slicing the rope in one swift movement. The rabbit stood there, unaware it was free. "Well go on," he told it, making   
  
'shooing' gestures.   
  
It hopped forward once and, when it wasn't tugged back like before, hopped to the edge of the treeline. Stopping there, the little white rabbit looked back at Wendell, nose twitching. //The woodsman has your mirror. He lives at the end of the stream.// And then the rabbit was gone.  
  
**********  
  
Melissa kept a close watch over Sport, who was currently grooming himself from head to foot and shooting her dirty looks. He still favored his left front paw, but from what she could tell it wasn't anything serious, just a small cut that looked fairly clean.   
  
A cut he'd received from somewhere in a forest.  
  
Which was somewhere in a strange world.  
  
Which was only accessible through a magic mirror.  
  
Which meant today was either the worst or the best day of her life.   
  
She tried to protest to herself that it was all a dream still, but she knew better, deep down. She could feel its reality. That didn't mean she had   
  
to like it, though.  
  
"I can't wait to get out of here. This is really bizarre."  
  
Teresa shrugged silently.  
  
"You're pretty quiet, Terry. Is something wrong? Are you sure you're all right?"  
  
"I'm fine. I'm more worried about you."  
  
"Me?" Melissa smiled too brightly. "No problems here. A little hungry and really tired."  
  
Teresa's eyes were all knowing. "You're frightened of this place."  
  
Melissa couldn't lie to that stare. "Yes. Aren't you?" She leaned forward, gesturing sharply. "Look at this! I don't know where the hell we are! And it's looking really unlikely like we're going to get back. Ever."  
  
"Back to what?"  
  
"Home. Back to where we belong and what we know."  
  
"Back to our routine."  
  
Melissa pursed her lips. "That's not what I meant."   
  
Teresa just shrugged again, and Melissa let her be. *She's just as frightened as I am* she told herself, picking up a fallen twig and snapping it   
  
in half. *That's why she's being so obstinate.*  
  
The silence settled between them, tinged with unease. A small animal scavenged in the nearby bushes, and in the distance an owl was calling. Melissa lay down on her back, staring up at the clear night sky. Stars danced across it, glittering merrily; she watched one streak across her line of sight and disappear behind the trees.   
  
She slowed her breathing, inhaling deeply of the crisp air. "Sure is nice here," she breathed, exhaling evenly.   
  
"You always did like the outdoors."  
  
"You always hated them." Melissa smiled at the memories of being eight years old and dragging Teresa camping. "Do you remember when we went to   
  
Yosemite?" She laughed softly. "That campsite with the bear trap?"  
  
She heard Teresa laugh, too. "You wanted to put meat in it! I couldn't believe that, even for you. You pouted about that for hours."  
  
"I didn't pout." Melissa raised up one elbow, eyebrows raised. "I just decided to read the rest of the evening."  
  
"You read the car manual."  
  
Melissa grinned. "I was studying to be a mechanic."  
  
They both started giggling, and Teresa lay down next to her on the grass, taking her hand. "I know you could have done anything you wanted, hon, but you were destined to be a star."   
  
She squeezed Teresa's hand in thanks. The words she wanted to say lodged in her heart, refusing to escape. As much as she wished she could, she'd never been able to tell Terry certain things, the things the other woman most deserved to hear. So many chances had passed them by.   
  
She wasn't sure what Teresa was thinking, but her own thoughts were a maze of memories, which eventually led to the present.  
  
Finally, Melissa asked: "What do you think of Wendell?"   
  
"I don't know. He seems very ... earnest."  
  
"Earnest." Melissa mulled the word over, liking how it fit him. "Good choice. I was going to say 'pompous,' but I like yours better."  
  
"Missy." Teresa's voice warned her to behave.  
  
"He thinks he's the king!"  
  
"Maybe he is."  
  
"Maybe." She considered that realistically and dismissed it. "No, I can't believe it. He'd probably be very handsome if he wasn't so dirty. At   
  
least he has that going for him."  
  
"I'm so glad I brought you up to respect men."  
  
Melissa laughed loudly. "Hey, it's only what they deserve. I know they all think about me in the same way. Wendell probably isn't any different. You never meet true gentlemen anymore, not even in strange worlds, I'll bet."  
  
"Now who's the cynic?"  
  
"It's experience talking." Melissa unlinked her hand from Teresa's and stretched both arms over her head, feeling the blood rush through her body. She curled her arms under her head and sighed. "What I wouldn't give to find one good man."  
  
Teresa turned her head, and Melissa could see the question reflected in her eyes by the half-moon light. "What would he be like?"  
  
She smiled and looked up into the stars. "He'd be kind, but not weak. He's got to be strong enough to accept the fact that I often kiss other men for a living. He has to have his own life and his own hobbies, too. He should be funny. And definitely worldly. Cultured, but he has to appreciate the   
  
outdoors. He has to love cats. But more than all that, he has to love me for who I am, and not because I'm some famous actress." Melissa's smile slipped   
  
away. "Which means I'll either be a spinster or married to some Australian who lives in the Outback."  
  
She felt Teresa pat her elbow. "You're not that famous dear. I'm sure I could find you some nice Southerner."  
  
Smiling, Melissa pointed at another falling star. "And I want to feel like *that* when he kisses me."   
  
"You don't ask for much do you?"  
  
*Just true love,* she thought.  
  
**********  
  
Wendell ran back along the stream, occasionally losing his footing and splashing into it until his boots were heavy with water. He had to get back,   
  
quickly, and get the women's help. He had spared only enough time to verify that there was an inhabited cottage before running back to Melissa to tell her.   
  
He burst out of the forest and pounded towards them, gasping for breath, his legs burning.  
  
A few minutes later he had nearly collapsed at their feet, holding up a hand to stall questions. When he was certain he wasn't going to die, he sucked in extra air and told them what had happened.  
  
"I found..." Wendell wheeze, "the mirror."  
  
"You did?"  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"You don't have it with you, do you?"  
  
He shook his head, saving his breath. "I'll ... show you," he mumbled. "Just as ... soon .... as I can stand."  
  
Shortly after that he was leading them to the stream. Melissa walked next to him with Sport back in her arms; Terry was a few steps behind.  
  
"How did you find it?" Melissa asked.  
  
"A rabbit told me."  
  
"A rabbit?"  
  
"Yes. He was caught in my snare so I set him free."  
  
"You set him free? Why did you do that? We're starving!"  
  
Wendell gaped at her. "I thought you wouldn't eat rabbit."  
  
"Why not? At this point I'd eat insects."  
  
"But, I saw how you treated your cat. You don't seem like the kind of woman who would eat a bunny."  
  
Melissa shrugged one shoulder. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Wendell."  
  
"Then you shall have to tell me everything."  
  
She looked away, and he thought he might have pushed too far until she said, "First, I'm not from New York like this 'Virginia' girl. She might be,   
  
but it's not the only city in America. I'm from Los Angeles."   
  
"Los Angeles." Wendell repeated it slowly. "We name our kingdoms after the Great Queen that ruled them or the current inhabitants. For example, Red Riding Hood's kingdom is the Second Kingdom and the Third Kingdom is also referred to as the Troll Kingdom. What should we call the Tenth Kingdom?"  
  
She went quiet for a long minute, her lips pursing. "I suppose the 'Tenth Kingdom' is fine," she finally said.  
  
He nodded. "We usually we refer to them by their numbers."  
  
"How many are there, total?"  
  
"Nine. Well, ten now. Up until several months ago, it was considered a myth."  
  
"A myth? And here I thought talking bunnies were the myth." He saw her smile and had to smile in response.  
  
"The Traveling Mirrors were hidden and no one had used them in a long time. Since that is the only way to get to the Tenth Kingdom, no one ever   
  
went."  
  
"So what changed?"  
  
Wendell pushed aside some bushes. They were about halfway there by now, and making good time. "The Evil Queen cast a spell that caused myself and her dog to switch bodies. I accidentally found the mirror, which brought me to New York, and Virginia. She and her father, Antony, came back here to help me restore my true form. As you can see, they succeeded, and they saved my Kingdom."  
  
"Nice of them."  
  
Wendell easily detected the disbelief. Melissa shifted Sport in her arms, groaning a little. It went against every instinct, but he had to ask her,   
  
"Would you like me to hold him for you?"  
  
Melissa paused, re-shifting Sport again. "No, that's alright. He doesn't always like strangers."  
  
"Oh good," Wendell breathed, relieved he wouldn't have to touch the cat. He hadn't liked them much before his change, but he nearly detested them now. They were so superior.   
  
"Why didn't you take the rabbit for yourself?"  
  
He openly stared at her, dismayed she would even think to ask. "I could not eat while you and Teresa were hungry. That would be out of the question."  
  
"That's remarkably sweet of you."  
  
"I should hope no one would ever do that." He almost felt insulted, but chalked it p to her being from a different world.  
  
"People do it all the time where I live."  
  
"That's terrible."  
  
She had partially buried her face in Sport's fur, and her words were muffled. "It's how life is. I've done it."  
  
"You've taken food from others?"  
  
"Not exactly. But I've eaten and let others go hungry." He was afraid she would smother herself, she was so pressed against her cat. But he   
  
understood her guilt, and had come to know it intimately as king.   
  
"Are you a ruler in your world?"  
  
"No. Many people know me, though. Do you have actors here?"  
  
"We do have some plays. They're generally silly things, and only performed during festivals."  
  
"In my world, we place a high priority on 'plays.' All kinds: dramatic and funny and even ones with music. I'm an actress in some of those."  
  
"Really?" Wendell looked her over carefully. He would certainly watch her perform something. She was magnificent to look at with those eyes of hers, and he was already in love with the rich feeling of her voice. It would be easy to see her as famous in her world. "That sounds marvelous, Melissa."  
  
"It's not anymore."  
  
Wendell's heart seized and he tripped over a slick rock on the stream's shore. "I'm ok," he said, waving her help off and righting himself. Had   
  
something changed her mind? Was it possible she might be convinced to stay here? *Don't be a fairying fool, Wendell* he scolded himself. *If she was   
  
going to stay, she wouldn't be so frantic about finding the mirror.* Still... He struggled to keep his voice calm as he asked, "You are not happy as an   
  
actress?"  
  
She lifted her head, but still didn't look at him. "No. I'm not. Sometimes you just realize how completely miserable your life is. I don't   
  
imagine you would understand that, especially living here."  
  
He stopped, and held her back gently by the shoulder. "You would be surprised," he said softly. Her eyes met his, and for a moment he was certain   
  
she felt the jolt that lanced between them. Her lips parted, but whatever words lingered there were cut off by Sport's unexpected growling.   
  
Melissa stepped back, looking down at Sport and hiding her face from Wendell. He snarled at the cat, gaining a stern look from Teresa, who had been   
  
quietly watching them. Controlling himself, he pushed through the bushes and stumbled into the woodsman's clearing. He'd been so caught up with Melissa that he hadn't realized they were this close. There was a cottage a short distance away, surrounded by bushes and a lot of chopped wood. A dog was in the yard, the biggest, meanest dog Wendell had ever seen, tied up to the most enormous tree trunk he had ever seen. When the dog saw them, it stopped gnawing on the dead human in front of it and its three heads began barking furiously, setting off Sport in hysterical yowls and spitting.   
  
Amidst all the noise, the door to the small cottage opened wide, and a huge man filled the lit doorway. "Who's there?" he shouted, taking a step out. In his hands was a very large axe.  
  
Wendell put himself in front of Melissa and held his hands slightly out in greeting. "Good evening, sir. I hate to disturb you, but I believe you have our mirror." It was almost impossible to ignore the slavering beast, but he did his best to remain calm. "It was just on the edge of the forest a few hours ago."  
  
"Your mirror? Aye, I found it," the man admitted. "Someone left it on the ground so I took it. You obviously didn't want it."  
  
"We do want it!" Melissa said over the continuing noise, coming even with Wendell. He noticed she wasn't looking at the dog, either.   
  
"Melissa," he hissed, "let me handle this." He put on his best placating tone. "Good sir, I am King Wendell White, and I can pay you handsomely for that mirror."  
  
The man hefted his axe in an incredibly threatening innocent gesture. "I don't give a bloody rabbit's foot who you are. And I don't need any money. I'll give it to you in trade, though."  
  
"Fine. What do you want?" That was Melissa again.  
  
"A game, m'lady. You must guess my name by the time I finish chopping that tree down. If you succeed, you get the mirror. If you fail, then he," he pointed at the dog, who had barked himself into a lather by now and was using his two free heads to rend the dead body, "gets free and has his own fun. Do you accept?"  
  
"Guess your name? How the hell are we going to do that?"  
  
Wendell felt some memory rise up and he waved at Melissa to be quiet. Smiling, he addressed the man calmly. "We accept."  
  
"Are you insane?" Melissa gasped while the woodsman lumbered over to the three. He reared back and took a huge chunk out of the trunk. The dog's heads started howling with excitement. "You're going to get us killed."  
  
"Not at all." He heard the solid chunk of the axe hitting wood again. "Antony told me about this man while we were saving the Kingdom. They had to   
  
get his axe to save Virginia from her long hair." He saw the question leap into Melissa's eyes and held up a finger to stall it. Too many axe swings had passed already, even though it was a huge tree. "His name is Juliet." Wendell shouted loud enough so Juliet could hear him call his name. He waited for the man's surrender, smiling victoriously, when he heard another thunderous chunk.  
  
Wendell spun around in surprise. "Juliet! Your name is Juliet!"  
  
"Not anymore. I legally changed it a couple of months ago." The man swung at the tree and took another large piece out. Although it was many feet   
  
thick, the Woodsman Formerly Known as Juliet already had it a quarter done.  
  
Melissa thumped him angrily on the arm. "Great job, King," she muttered, going to huddle next to Teresa.   
  
Wendell stared helplessly at the tree while another chunk flew out.  
  
**********  
  
"Madeline? Charles? Diana? Marcus?" Wendell shot off names as fast as he could, trying to get multiple guesses per axe-swing. With Melissa and   
  
Teresa's help, he had gone over every name he could immediately think of with no success. And the dog's simultaneous howling and barking drove out most other coherent thought.   
  
He watched the woodsman slice another section of trunk and shuddered. The huge tree was starting to move -- just a little, but not a good sign at all. "You two run the second that ... dog breaks loose," Wendell said, turning to face them. "It can only really get one of us, even if its got three heads. I should be able to stall it long enough for -" there was another ka-chunk and the tree groaned " - for you to get out. Go to my castle and they will help you."  
  
Melissa, who had her hands full with Sport wriggling and hissing, shook her head fiercely. "That's ridiculous! Even if you are a king, who's going -" she winced when the axe struck again, "- to believe that we didn't kill you? I'd rather we all take our chances together."  
  
"We don't have time to argue."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Ka-chunk. Wendell grimaced as leaves fluttered around them. "I will not let anything happen to you or Teresa," he said.   
  
"How exactly are you going to stop it?" Before he could answer she had stepped away from him, trying to settle Sport down as she did. "HEY! You!"   
  
The man cocked his head in their direction but didn't stop chopping. "Can't we strike a deal here?"  
  
The man laughed without humor. "My lady, we already have!" He reared back and made a particularly deep cut in the tree. Wendell shivered with   
  
branches.   
  
Sport's yowling increased as Melissa got even closer to the insane woodsman. Wendell followed her, unwilling to let her face him alone, no matter   
  
how foolishly she was behaving.   
  
"No, my friend made that deal. I want to make a different one with you."  
  
"Sorry. One deal per group, that's how it works."   
  
Melissa said something Wendell couldn't hear over the animals' challenges to each other. But he easily made out her scream when Sport finally escaped from her grasp. The orange tabby, who looked pitifully small compared to the hulking, three-headed beast, ran straight at the dog. The cat's short fur was standing straight up and he stopped just out of reach, spitting madly.   
  
"Sport, no!" Melissa cried, lunging after him. Wendell tried to grab her arm, but he only managed to get his fingertips around her elbow before she   
  
pulled out of his grasp. She stumbled forward and he watched, horrified, as she smacked into the woodsman, who was in the middle of another swing. The axe,   
  
glinting in the light from the house, bounced off course, slicing the dog's three heads off at the base where the necks met.   
  
The heads bounced to the ground and rolled into Sport, who jumped backwards, his snarls the only sound in the eerie silence.  
  
Melissa had fallen to one knee, and the cat ran to her, climbing up her back while she yelped and struggled to stand. The woodsman was staring at the disembodied body of his dog, the axe fallen from his hands.   
  
"You killed Fluffy," he mumbled.   
  
Wendell took the opportunity to drag Melissa farther back, edging her towards Teresa, who hadn't said a word. The woodsman bent and picked up the   
  
heads, which had frozen with mouths hanging open. Blood streamed from the neck, and everywhere it touched air, it steamed. The body was held up, barely, by the chain that was already starting to slip off of the stump that was left. It was a horrible sight.   
  
The man turned his head towards them, and Wendell's stomach clenched. "You killed my dog," the woodsman repeated, anger choking his words.   
  
Wendell felt his patience fraying. "Actually, sir, you killed the dog."  
  
"I did not!"  
  
"It was your axe!"  
  
He felt Melissa tugging on his shirt as the woodsman picked his axe up and waved it at him. "You ruined the deal!" the man roared. More leaves fluttered down from above.   
  
"PRINCESS!"  
  
Everyone in the clearing went absolutely still, frozen by the shrill voice.  
  
"Princess what are you doing out there?" Wendell glanced at Melissa and Teresa, and although the older woman was very pale, neither looked like they   
  
knew the intruder.  
  
Wendell and Melissa simultaneously mouthed to each other, "Princess?"  
  
The woodsman lowered the axe and turned towards the open door. Wendell looked to the doorway as well, seeing another tall figure, indeterminate in the odd lighting though the voice was obviously female.   
  
"They ruined my game," the woodsman bellowed, kicking some dirt.  
  
"It serves you right after bringing home that mirror!" She stepped out of the house and Wendell noticed that her hair was wriggling. Wriggling hair meant only one thing in the Fourth Kingdom -- the Medusa. He forced Melissa to put her back to the woman and spun Teresa around moments later.  
  
"Don't turn around," he ordered both of them. "If you look in her eyes, it will turn you to stone. Look there," he pointed at a few statues that none of them had seen earlier in their panic.  
  
"It must not work anymore, though," Melissa protested. "Princess isn't affected by it."  
  
"That's because he's blind."  
  
"A blind woodsman?"  
  
"His name *is* Princess."  
  
"But still--"  
  
"Let's have this discussion later, hm?"  
  
Wendell chanced a slow look at the ground and saw that Princess was standing in front of the Medusa. He could hear their angry babbling, but both   
  
were talking too fast to be understood.  
  
"Excuse me," Wendell shouted, hoping not to make either one angrier. "Madam? You said you have a mirror?"  
  
"That's right! This bloody idiot brings one home this evening, pleased as can be at his 'gift.'" He heard her hack and spit something on the ground. "It's thoughtless, is what it is."  
  
"Why don't you give it to them, then? They say it's their mirror." Princess sounded like he was pouting.  
  
"I already got rid of it, you fool! It was too dangerous to keep here!"  
  
Wendell stifled a despairing groan. "What did you do with it?"  
  
He could feel the Medusa's stare boring into his back and forced himself not to look.   
  
"A trader came through," she said after a minute, disappointed. "I traded it for a new frying pan. He was heading that way." She must have been   
  
pointing, though he didn't bother to see.  
  
"Wonderful," Wendell sighed. "We'll be going now. Our apologies for the interruption."  
  
"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?"  
  
"Quite sure, thank you." He gently pushed Melissa and Teresa forward. "Let's leave quickly," he told them in a quiet voice. They nearly ran into the bushes, Princess and his medusa's argument disappearing behind the slam of the cottage door. Silence was the only thing that followed them.   
  
**********  
  
Melissa wouldn't have stopped running if Wendell hadn't called her back.   
  
"What was that?" she hissed, afraid the crazy woodsman and his wife were following them.  
  
"I assume you're speaking of the Medusa. There is only ever one alive at one time in the Nine Kingdoms, so I can assure you she is the only one we will be running into. I never imagined she would settle down."   
  
"And she can really turn people to stone?"  
  
Wendell frowned at her. "Whether you believe in it or not, magic exists here, Melissa, and it is almost always dangerous. You must not take anything magical lightly, or it could cost you your life."   
  
She started to argue with him and then realized there was no way to make an argument stick. Hedging her bets was the safest choice, at this point. She slowed down to wait for Teresa, who was walking behind them again. "Are you doing all right?" she whispered, concerned at the strange look in Terry's eyes.  
  
"Yes. I'm just a little tired, though."  
  
"We've had a busy day." She tried not to think of the image of the headless dog. "Wendell," she called louder, causing him to stop. "Don't you   
  
think we should get some sleep? We're exhausted."  
  
He hurried back to them, hands clenched at his sides. In his pale eyes she recognized a deep concern, and something else that wasn't quite real. "I am very sorry, Melissa. I didn't mean to push either of you. It is very important we find the mirror, but not at such a cost. I'm afraid the only place to sleep is the ground, though. Not quite a fitting bed for a famous woman."  
  
"Or a king," Melissa retorted.  
  
"Point taken." He looked more pleased than angry. "Will you be all right to sleep out here, Teresa?"  
  
The older woman smiled tiredly. "I believe I would sleep on rocks right now."  
  
Melissa squeezed her arm gently. "I'll set up a comfortable bed for you. You won't even realize you're sleeping on the ground. Can you walk just a   
  
little while more until we find a suitable spot?"  
  
"I could carry you," Wendell piped in, his words touching Melissa's heart.  
  
She could see Teresa felt the same way by the light in her eyes. "I'm not an invalid, dears. I can make it awhile longer. But thank you for the offer."  
  
Wendell, casting a questioning glance to Melissa first, led them along for another few minutes before finding a place where they could have a fire for warmth. Already the night air was getting chilly, much more than it would in Los Angeles. Melissa gathered branches and large leaves while Wendell   
  
disappeared to gather food. Calling on old skills, she fashioned a sort of bed for Terry. "See?" she said proudly, once it was complete. "I knew being a Girl Scout would be useful someday."  
  
She half expected to hear Wendell's voice, asking her what a 'Girl Scout' was, but he still had not returned. Melissa had the feeling he'd meant what he'd said earlier about wanting to know everything about her. It was the way he looked, when she caught him staring. His gaze was very intense. It reminded her of Rob before he'd changed. Before he'd turned dangerous.  
  
"Where are you, hon?"  
  
"I'm right here, Terry." Melissa reached down to scratch Sport, who was inspecting Teresa's bed. "That's a silly question."  
  
Terry smiled the peculiar smile of an old woman that knows too much. "Your body is here, but your mind is not." Melissa didn't offer an opening for   
  
discussion, but the other woman pressed anyway. "Rob?"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"You always look like that when you think of him."  
  
Melissa couldn't meet her eyes, not wanting to concede defeat. "Honestly, Terry, you think about him more than I do. I was thinking about this place. He's in the past."  
  
"Yes," Teresa snapped. Melissa looked at her then, surprised to hear the tension. It was so rare for Terry to be upset about anything. "He is." She waved a perfectly manicured finger in front of Melissa's nose. "And you can tell me that you don't think of him, but don't you lie to yourself. Don't ever lie to yourself, Melissa Dukavski."   
  
Melissa's resistance crumbled. She had no defenses where Terry was concerned. "I hate him," she whispered. "I think about him and I hate him. I   
  
hate that he was never punished. That's what bothers me most. I can't stop thinking about it."  
  
"You have to try. Revenge will devour your whole life. It'll change you, just as surely as drugs." She wrapped her arm around Melissa's shoulders. "Most of the time you won't get revenge for the evils you see committed. It's not fair, but it's life."  
  
"What kind of a life is that? What kind of a world do we live in?"  
  
Teresa brushed her hand across Melissa's hair. "The only world you know. Revenge is a dangerous force, Missy, especially when it hides under justice's cloak. Don't forget that, no matter what world you're in." She let go then, and sat down on her bed as Wendell came back into the clearing.   
  
His face, shadowed by the forest canopy, still shone with pleasure. Melissa smiled just to look at him as he cradled a fair amount of food in his   
  
arms.  
  
"Success!" he announced. He had a remarkable voice. Every word was uttered so precisely, layered by his accent. She decided that she loved to   
  
listen to him talk.  
  
He set all the food next to Teresa and than sat down in the dirt. "These are wonderberries," he said, plucking a bright blue berry from the pile. "They are very good, but very sweet. I also found some tubers. These," he held up a long, dirty root-looking piece of food, "are rather bland but very healthy." He handed the tuber to Melissa, his gaze expectant.  
  
She turned it over in her hands and brushed some of the dirt off. It was like being in LA, where everyone this year was a vegetarian. "Thank you,   
  
Wendell. This is really great."  
  
From his smile she decided that was the right response. *If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging* she thought. They split the food up evenly and began to eat in silence. After awhile, Melissa spit out a wonderberry seed and asked, "What are we going to do next? Where do we go from here?"  
  
Wendell hastily wiped his chin. "Well, I thought we should follow the trader's tracks. You can see where the cart went, when the moonlight hits it. In the morning it should be quite easy to follow."  
  
"Won't the trader have gone quite a ways?"  
  
"I imagine whoever it is will have already stopped for the evening, just as we have. We won't catch up, but I don't believe it is a hopeless cause." She nodded and held back the rest of her questions. There were parts of this situation that Melissa didn't quite understand, and knew she probably   
  
wasn't prepared to. They finished their meal and Terry stretched out on her bed, complimenting it loudly. Melissa hushed her quickly, embarrassed.   
  
Stoking the small fire, Wendell huddled closer to it, having given his cloak to Teresa to use. Melissa could feel his eyes on her again. Sport curled at her feet while she idly stroked his fur, the soft hairs tickling her fingertips. At this time yesterday she had been at home and awake, watching   
  
some late night movie with no plot and bad acting, grateful simply that it wasn't one of hers. She'd had several glasses of wine but still suffered from   
  
the insomnia that had plagued her for months now. Her future worried her as much as her present did, and her conscience kindly topped it all off with guilt   
  
that she worried at all. Melissa couldn't get past the reality that no one would understand, much less care, about the whimpering of a world-famous   
  
actress. Why would she have problems? they all asked. Most people thought any problems she had were made up.   
  
The only people she didn't have to pay to listen to her were here with her now.   
  
"Are you cold?" Wendell asked softly. The firelight caressed his face, hiding the dirt in shadows until she almost believed he was a king in disguise.   
  
But that was ridiculous. Melissa knew better than anyone that only happened in the movies.  
  
"I'm fine. The fire's nice."  
  
He smiled, and she saw for the first time how charming his smile was. Infectious. "I don't have many chances to use my outdoorsman skills," he   
  
admitted.   
  
"Me either." She continued to stroke Sport, who purred contentedly.  
  
"Why doesn't he run away?"  
  
She looked down at the orange tabby who was stretched completely out now. "I've had Sport since he was a few days old. I hand-reared him because his mother had died. He's been following me around for years. Usually it's annoying, but I'm glad now."  
  
Wendell had his knees drawn up and his head rested on them. His eyes never left her face. "Have you had many pets?"  
  
She smiled, shaking her head. "He's my first, actually. I never really had time before."  
  
"What changed?"  
  
Melissa watched the steady movement of her hand, not wanting to answer that question. What had changed was Rob. She had been so lonely then that when she'd stumbled on the box of kittens she wanted to keep all of them. But after the vet's warning of how difficult it would be -- and Rob's concealed threats -- she had kept only Sport. He had helped her as much as Terry had.   
  
"Melissa?"  
  
Her gaze jerked up, and his eyes captured and held her. Still, it wasn't enough. "My life changed," she said, biting off the words. Wendell frowned, so quickly she thought she imagined it, and looked away.   
  
"We should go to sleep," he said, lying down and pillowing his head on his arm. "You are sure you're not cold?"  
  
Melissa lay down across from him, her eyes suddenly heavy. Sport curled up against her knees, still purring. *How nice it would be to sleep next to   
  
someone again* she thought. "Are you?" she asked aloud. *If he answers 'yes,' then there's no harm in suggesting it.*  
  
Wendell's blue eyes seemed deep and dark in the flickering shadows. He had to know what she was thinking. She could feel him inside her mind.   
  
"No," he whispered. "I'm not cold." He shut his eyes then and turned onto his back.  
  
Melissa lay awake long into the night, watching the fire as it danced across his cheeks.   
  
********** 


	2. Part 2

Wendell woke up first the next morning, shivering and covered with dew.   
  
He saw the gray ashes of the fire and looked past it to Melissa. She was asleep, but dark circles   
  
still shadowed her eyes. It was the first time he'd seen her in good light, and the only chance he'd had to   
  
watch her without fear of being noticed. He took advantage of it, supporting himself on his elbow until his   
  
arm started to go numb. Last night had been almost impossible. There had been such a need in her   
  
expression that he almost couldn't believe he'd refused to join her. But he knew it wouldn't have been right.   
  
She was probably afraid, though she hid it well, and it would have been taking advantage of her to expose   
  
that need and use it.   
  
Regardless, that had been the most difficult offer he'd ever turned down.   
  
He shifted to ease the pressure on his tingling arm and continued to watch Melissa, noting that  
  
Sport was still curled up next to her. He stopped watching only when Teresa began to wake.   
  
Slowly, Wendell climbed to his feet, brushing his arms and smoothing down his curls as much as   
  
possible. It was silly, but he didn't want to look bad in front of Melissa. *I am certain the peasant outfit is   
  
not helping my case* he sighed, looking at the dull, dirty clothes he wore. She made him feel so off-  
  
balanced and uneasy. It was an embarrassing thing for the King of the Fourth Kingdom to be struck like an   
  
adolescent boy just by looking at her.   
  
"Good morning, Wendell."  
  
He jerked his eyes away from Melissa and smiled at the older woman. "Good morning, Teresa.   
  
Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Well enough." She pulled his cloak tighter around herself. "Thank you for this, I would've   
  
frozen without it."  
  
He smiled wider, pleased it had helped. "We have some food left over for breakfast. I thought we   
  
should eat as we walked. We need to make as much time on foot as we can."  
  
"Of course."   
  
They both glanced at Melissa again, who had not stirred.   
  
"Do you really think we'll find it?" Teresa whispered.  
  
Wendell looked at his nails, noting the dirt caked beneath them. "Yes," he finally said. "I have to.   
  
I have to send Melissa home." He hoped the ache in his voice was not too noticeable.   
  
When he looked at Teresa she was staring at him, those kind eyes seeing too much. He felt judged   
  
by that stare, as though she was weighing his soul. "There is something you should know," she said.  
  
Wendell held her gaze, uncomfortable as it was, and nodded slowly. "What is it?"  
  
Melissa stirred, stretched, and opened her eyes, interrupting Teresa's next words. He met the older   
  
woman's eyes but she shook her head very slightly, no.   
  
"Good morning," Melissa murmured, sitting up. She hugged herself, shivering a little.  
  
Wendell held himself in place, though he wanted to kneel by Melissa's side and hold her until she   
  
was warm. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Yes." She was obviously avoiding looking at him. "Terry can we...uh," she jerked her head at   
  
the woods, and Wendell saw her cheeks redden very slightly. He kept his best serious expression as they   
  
walked a little ways into the woods, and then walked the opposite direction himself, grinning.  
  
A short while later, they were walking again, following the cart tracks in the brightness of   
  
morning. The air was breezy and would be nice later when the sun was up and shining fully. For now,   
  
they ate and walked as fast as Teresa could manage. Melissa had finally let Sport travel on his own, and he   
  
trailed along behind them, batting at the occasional dangling plant. He never let them get too far out of   
  
sight, though. Wendell marveled how he shared in the leftover tubers after some convincing. He never   
  
thought a cat would eat what it was told to.   
  
When breakfast was finished, Melissa suggested that Wendell tell them what had happened with   
  
Virginia and how they had saved the Kingdoms. Though he much rather would have listened to her talk, he   
  
told them everything as he had experienced it, and what he had heard from Antony. How Relish had   
  
helped the Queen escape and he'd been turned into a dog. His initial trip across the mirror. His subsequent   
  
stay in Snow White Memorial Prison, which, he was proud to inform them, had a new and better prison   
  
governor now. And the foursome's adventures, from his being turned to gold, to the way Wolf had saved   
  
everyone at his coronation ball. He got the feeling that Melissa still wasn't convinced of some of it,   
  
especially about him being a king. It was late afternoon by the time he ended with Virginia and Wolf's   
  
departure. The four were stopped for a rest, and Wendell had his cloak back. It had grown very warm,   
  
especially with the distance they were traveling, and no one had needed the extra heat of a cloak. Sport   
  
was stretched out on the ground, covered in sunlight.   
  
"I can't believe she had to kill her own mother," Melissa murmured for the fourth time. Her eyes   
  
had glazed over a bit at that part, and Wendell wasn't entirely sure she'd heard the end of the tale.   
  
"She was an evil woman, Melissa," he reminded her. "Virginia had no choice."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But her own mother? I don't know how she could do it. I couldn't, and I don't   
  
even remember my real mother."   
  
"You don't?" He helped Teresa to stand and waited for Melissa to do the same. He knew better   
  
than to try to offer now, she'd rebuffed help the three previous times he'd tried.   
  
Melissa shrugged. "She died when I was two. Terry's taken care of me since then." He saw the   
  
gentleness in her eyes when she looked at Teresa, and felt filled with pride. At least the woman he was in   
  
love with understood such devotion.  
  
Wendell spun on his heel and began following the trail again, muttering to himself. *Not in love   
  
with. Attracted to. End of story. You are King Wendell, who has to marry according to his kingdom's   
  
needs. That is what kings do, remember that. Look what happened when my father married the evil queen   
  
because he loved her.* That stilled the pounding of his heart. He loved his father, but the man had been   
  
very foolish. He would not risk the kingdoms like that.  
  
But he could only stick to that promise as long as he never looked at Melissa again.  
  
Wendell groaned and wished fervently that they would find the mirror soon. The sooner she went   
  
home, the easier it would be. Every time he talked to her he found new things to admire and actual reasons   
  
to be in love with her. It was driving him crazy.  
  
"Are you in a hurry?"  
  
He slowed down, waiting for the women to catch up. Both were looking at him strangely, and he   
  
smiled, trying to put them at ease. "I am simply anxious to find the mirror. I'm sure you can understand   
  
that." They both nodded, but neither one looked as eager as they had been yesterday. He didn't bother to   
  
try and understand why.   
  
Walking in silence, they were able to hear the shouting and loud laughter of a group in the   
  
distance before they came upon them. Teresa scooped Sport up into her arms and Wendell held out a hand   
  
to keep the women back as he crept forward to look, but Melissa followed him anyway. He tried to ignore   
  
the warmth of her as she stood close to him and peered out of the bushes at a large, wooden cabin.   
  
It was still late afternoon and sunny, but there was a lantern in the only window they could see.   
  
From underneath the closed door the sounds of a raucous crowd tumbled forth. There was a sign over the   
  
door with "House of Wood" and a picture of a house and a pig carved into it. Wendell's brow furrowed as   
  
he tried to recall where this was. It was the only building they'd seen all day, but a dirt path bisected the   
  
trail they had been following, and the path showed more signs of use.   
  
"What is this?" Melissa whispered, her breath tickling his ear.   
  
"I believe it is a half-way point. There must be two small villages nearby." He pointed, "look at   
  
that path. This is a tavern. I believe our trader stopped here on his way." Pulling back, he touched   
  
Melissa's shoulder gently and gestured to where Teresa was waiting. The older woman joined them and   
  
they approached the building, the noise getting louder as they got closer.  
  
As they neared, Wendell stopped the two women. "I should warn you, their reactions will   
  
probably be unnerving."  
  
"Unnerving?" Melissa looked at him skeptically. "Why?"  
  
"I expect there will be quite a bit of bowing and scraping and that sort of thing when they see me.   
  
Try not to be embarrassed."  
  
He saw her lips twitch. "We'll try," she said seriously.   
  
Wendell ignored her sarcasm and settled the cloak around his shoulders. He smoothed down his   
  
hair once more and pulled the door open.  
  
A rush of laughter and the sour stench of sweat bowled into them. The room was filled past   
  
capacity with mostly men. It was stifling, even just standing outside the room. He felt the hairs on his   
  
arms stand up, and knew this wouldn't go well. Wendell thought about keeping Melissa and Teresa   
  
outside, and knew they would never listen.   
  
He forced his way into the room and felt forty pairs of eyes settle on his face. The room went   
  
abnormally silent, until even the slight breeze stilled. *Here we go* Wendell thought, ready for a little   
  
vindication.   
  
But just as abruptly as it had come, the silence disappeared, swallowed up as the patrons' restarted   
  
conversations and the wind fought its way back in the door. Wendell stood in the middle of the room,   
  
gaping. They had looked him over and then completely ignored him. He felt a hand on his shoulder and   
  
heard Melissa's voice in his ear. "You're right," she said softly. "That was embarrassing.*  
  
"Very funny," he muttered. "Let's talk to the tavern owner." He headed for the hulking man   
  
behind the cramped bar, Melissa holding onto his cloak to keep from getting separated. A growl settled in   
  
his throat as he fought his way through, and panic seized him. He could not afford to go doggy right now.   
  
A space opened between two smelly individuals and he lunged for it, grabbing onto the wood   
  
tightly. One of the men, bald and sweaty with perfect teeth, snarled at Wendell, and he had to suppress his   
  
own return growl. The man on the other side -- tall and possessing a ridiculous amount of muscles --   
  
sneered silently.   
  
"Need somethin?"  
  
Wendell looked up to see the tavern owner, who was somehow even larger than he had thought.   
  
He swallowed down his fear. "Actually, yes. Did a trader come through here recently, perhaps with a cart   
  
full of items?"  
  
The man eyed him with squinty, suspicious eyes. Even if he answered, Wendell wasn't sure   
  
whether to trust him. "Aye, he did. He's gone now. Headed down that path." The man nodded his head to   
  
his right, keeping both thick hands planted firmly on the counter. *Obviously he still doesn't recognize   
  
me,* Wendell thought.   
  
"Need anythin' else?"  
  
"Actually, yes, good sir. I'm calling on you, as a Citizen of the Fourth Kingdom, to give me the   
  
food and shelter I require."  
  
All three men stared at him, their faces twitching.  
  
"Give you food? By the bloody Queen, why should I? Who're you, then?"  
  
Standing as straight and tall as he could with two women clutching his cloak, Wendell summoned   
  
twenty-one years of training. "I am King Wendell White, Ruler of the Fourth Kingdom."  
  
The men gaped at him and then exploded with laughter. Wendell was overwhelmed by the foul   
  
smell of beer and bad breath. *If I was a dog,* he thought, *that smell alone would kill me.*   
  
"Lookit him!" the tavern owner shouted over the din his customers made. "He says he's the king!"   
  
The several men packed in around them also started guffawing. Wendell growled low, the soft sounds   
  
overpowered by the noise.   
  
"Hey, king," someone nearby shouted, "where'r all yer fancy clothes?"  
  
"He's too dirty to be king!"   
  
"But I am," Wendell protested, trying to stay calm. Did no one believe him anymore?   
  
"If you're King Wendell, then I'm Snow White!" the tavern owner roared.   
  
Wendell tugged his cloak out of Melissa's grasp and leaned over the counter. "I ... am ... King ...   
  
Wendell," he forced out between clenched teeth.   
  
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, I'm the fairest one of all!" the huge man squealed in a low falsetto.   
  
Wendell's teeth ground together. *You are not a dog* he told himself sternly. They were all enjoying   
  
themselves entirely too much at his expense, but he wasn't going to let the old magic take over.   
  
Then the tall man stretched past him and grabbed Melissa's arm.  
  
Wendell turned and punched him in the stomach, his fist slamming into the other man's rock-hard   
  
muscles. It was like hitting a bloody troll.  
  
The man shifted his gaze and spared Wendell a glare before retaliating with a simple shove that   
  
tumbled him backwards into the two women. Wendell recovered without falling and leapt for the tall man's   
  
throat, but never made it past the sword that had suddenly appeared between then. He nearly crashed into   
  
the bar to keep himself from running into it. The blade was very long, and gleamed, even in the dim light.   
  
Most likely it was magically sharp, and Wendell didn't want to find out. The tavern owner waved it at both   
  
of them, his little eyes dangerous.   
  
"There's to be no fightin' in my House. D'you hear?"  
  
Wendell barked once, sharply, and slapped his hand over his mouth. With as much dignity as he   
  
could gather, he lowered his hand and said, "Yes."  
  
The other man spit on the ground, sneered, and turned back to his abandoned drink. Wendell   
  
growled and thought about spitting, too, but Melissa was tugging sharply on his cloak. "We should go,"   
  
she hissed.   
  
"Fine," he snapped. Chin raised, he began pushing his way back to the door, ignoring the   
  
whispered comments as he went. Once the three had gotten out, he shut the door, dulling the shock of the   
  
tavern's noise. They stood looking at each other a moment, all of them breathing hard. Melissa unhooked   
  
Sport from Teresa's chest and shoulder, and cradled the huge cat lovingly.   
  
"I don't understand," he said, combing his hair back with his fingers. His forehead was   
  
distressingly sweaty. "Why doesn't anyone believe I'm the King?"  
  
A young woman passing by, her arms loaded down with a small barrel of some foul drink, paused,   
  
looking him up and down. "That's easy," she said. Her dark eyes were bright with curiosity. "You shoulda   
  
picked a day when the King hadn't been seen on his trip."  
  
"Trip?" Wendell grabbed the girl's shoulder as she started away, almost causing her to drop the   
  
barrel. She glared at him, but answered anyway.  
  
"Aye. Just left this mornin'. Somethin' about visitin' Sir Tony. They declared it through all the   
  
blessed kingdom. Seems stupid to me. Why should I care where he goes? If he ever came here, most've   
  
these lads would want to wallop him for that wolf decree. Dumbest thing I ever heard." Even laden down   
  
she seemed particularly eager to vent her opinion, her voice high and quick. "He don't live near the border   
  
here with us. He don't have to lock himself inside at the full moon. Sure that wolf saved everyone, but it's   
  
just one wolf. They ain't like that one."  
  
Wendell couldn't believe his people held that much distrust; and he couldn't imagine he had ever   
  
felt that way himself. "Are you quite finished?" he asked, struggling with his disgust.  
  
The woman looked at him oddly. "Well, you asked. I'm goin' in now. Why don't you try again   
  
next month. You do sorta look like 'im." She winked and managed to open the door with a quick   
  
movement. The noise blasted them back a few steps before it shut, swallowing the girl up inside.   
  
Melissa and Teresa were watching him expectantly. He rubbed his hand across his face, sighing.   
  
"My advisors have done something that is generally very intelligent, but will cause us many   
  
problems now." He gestured for them to follow him. They would have to sleep on the road again tonight.   
  
He had no money and he was sure they wouldn't either.   
  
"What did they do?"  
  
"It's a precaution for the safety of the kingdom. If something unexpected happens to me, they say   
  
I went to Antony's castle for a vacation. It keeps invaders from knowing that I've disappeared, which is   
  
what happened last time. The immediate threat of trolls have been taken care of, but you can't be too   
  
careful."  
  
Melissa caught up to him, settling her pace to meet his. "I can't believe you attacked that guy."  
  
He glanced at her, not sure how to take that. "I thought he was going to hurt you."  
  
"Oh." She looked away, her lips curved into a soft smile, and he felt his heart burning in his chest.   
  
After a silent minute she said, "Let's say you are a king. Why did you leave your castle?"  
  
"I was only going to be gone for the day."  
  
"That doesn't answer my question."  
  
He eyed the ground, telling himself he was watching for cart tracks. "I know. It was foolish to   
  
leave at all. Irresponsible."  
  
"Wendell." Her tone was gentle and he looked into her eyes. Understanding waited there for him,   
  
if he only spoke to her. The air buzzed with promise. Melissa put Sport down, and the cat meowed once,   
  
loudly, then darted off to the side of the road. Her hand brushed Wendell's, her fingers closing around his   
  
own. "Why did you leave?" she repeated, though he hardly heard her. Elf-all, how could he be this   
  
affected by her touch?   
  
"I," he had to force the word out, "I felt trapped. Ever since I've been crowned, I haven't had a   
  
spare moment to myself. I've been studying and learning to be a king my entire life. I thought I would be   
  
prepared." He shifted his hand in hers until their fingers slipped between each other. He hoped his weren't   
  
as sweaty as he feared, and was relieved that she didn't pull away. "But I've also been having nightmares   
  
every night since I was turned human again. Lately it's just been a struggle to fall asleep. I was miserable,   
  
Melissa. I had to leave." He watched her for any sign of disgust or disappointment. "Though no one   
  
would understand."   
  
But he saw in her eyes that she did, completely.  
  
She never said anything else to him as they walked, hands linked, but he felt they were quietly   
  
sharing the best and worst part of themselves through a simple touch.   
  
*What are you doing, you bloody fool?* He jerked his hand out of hers as his thoughts wandered   
  
to Melissa and their future. She stared at him, and in her eyes the warm light had blown out.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, gesturing vaguely. "I need to...to find a place to sleep. Before it gets   
  
dark." She nodded silently and turned away from him, to Teresa.   
  
Wendell left them and found a place that would serve as their spot that evening, his thoughts   
  
stuttering. The two women joined him, darting quiet glances his way. What had happened... the words he   
  
had almost said... it was too much to imagine.   
  
"I'll go get us some food," he said, not expecting -- or getting -- a response.   
  
He disappeared blindly into the bushes, leaving the women behind. Wendell knew that if last   
  
night had been difficult, tonight would be impossible.   
  
**********  
  
It wasn't until the next afternoon that they arrived at the end of the tracks. Where yesterday's walk   
  
had been mostly talkative and quick, Melissa found this one tiring and uncomfortable. She spent most of it   
  
wondering why Wendell had reacted so strangely the night before.  
  
She knew he was attracted to her. That was no longer in doubt. And she had to admit that as she'd   
  
gotten used to that initial arrogance and endless dirt, Wendell became a very attractive guy. He had   
  
brilliant, inquisitive eyes and a handsomely lean face.  
  
But what impressed her most was the unexpected selflessness. From the simple act of finding   
  
them food, to the remarkable way he was helping them find the mirror, he had never complained. Melissa   
  
felt guilty knowing she would have, in his place.  
  
It made her wonder if his 'king' stories were true.  
  
He'd seemed so sincere last night, first distressed about not being recognized and then admitting   
  
how miserable he was. They'd connected in that moment, in a way that she couldn't shake. It clung to her   
  
like wispy cobwebs. It had been ... well ... magical. She knew he'd felt it by the shock reflected in his eyes.  
  
So why had he pulled away?  
  
The only answer she'd come up with said he was lying about being a king and didn't want to be   
  
found out. Whether he was a king or not didn't matter, but lying to her did.  
  
Wendell had been just as quiet as she had today, although he occasionally chatted with Terry   
  
about some of the quirks of the Nine Kingdoms. But he avoided Melissa, without seeming to try. She had   
  
still listened unobtrusively, picking up interesting tidbits about this strange place. Accepting it as reality   
  
had been easier than she thought -- and much kinder on her nerves, which were currently busy enough.  
  
At least Terry looked healthier than she had the previous two days. Even she hadn't been   
  
unaffected by the events, if her pale, sickly-looking skin was any indication. Today her eyes were bright,   
  
her cheeks were flushed, and the dazed air about her had disappeared entirely.   
  
Wendell stopped them a couple hours after lunch and pointed to a building in the distance.   
  
Melissa picked up Sport, who'd been dutifully following her all day, sharing an excited glance with Terry.   
  
"Will you two stay outside this time?" Wendell asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Absolutely not," Melissa stated firmly.   
  
"That is what I assumed. Come on, then. It's past time to get the mirror back." The last words   
  
were flat and dull, disappointing her. She'd hoped for some sign that he didn't want her to leave yet. *Not   
  
that it would matter, of course. I have to go home.*  
  
They were too soon at the building, a fair-sized structure constructed of bricks. This place had a   
  
sign similar to the tavern, with a carved pig beneath the words 'House of Bricks.' There was something   
  
about all this that tickled Melissa's thoughts, hovering just out of reach.   
  
Wendell pulled the door open, and they all winced, prepared for the same crash of noise as the last   
  
place. This one was quiet and as they peered in, they saw it was a general store, the shelves stocked full.   
  
"Excellent," Wendell breathed, apparently more relieved than Melissa. She couldn't blame him   
  
after his near-death experience with that tall guy. It still struck her as heroic how he'd jumped in to protect   
  
her.   
  
They stepped inside, shutting the door behind them and letting their eyes adjust to the dimmer   
  
light. There was only one small window here, and no lamp to support the feeble light it let in.   
  
"Hello?" Wendell picked up a small carving, turning it over in his hands, and called out again   
  
when there was no answer the first time.   
  
It was strange being in a house made entirely of bricks. Melissa felt like she was in a kiln. The   
  
wall behind the counter was covered with swords and shields, and had a small door in the middle.   
  
After another moment, there were grunts and shuffling behind the door and then it opened. The   
  
figure came around the counter and squealed, "Hiya."  
  
Melissa blinked, slowly.  
  
"You're a pig," she blurted out.  
  
The store owner pinned her down with his beady eyes, and snuffled the air. It had the body of a   
  
normal human but the head of a human who, in her world, would have been surgically altered. The nose   
  
was a snout, the eyes were round and small and dark, and the whole shape of the head and ears was round   
  
and pig-like. It was frightening and fascinating, all at the same time. Melissa would have reached out to   
  
touch it -- him? -- if he hadn't been quite so far back. He was wearing a perfect little tailored suit.   
  
"What do you want?" he asked. He seemed to squeal and grunt and still form words.   
  
Wendell shot Melissa a terse frown and then slid into his charming smile as he faced the pig-man.   
  
"We're looking for a mirror, sir, that you traded for two days ago."  
  
"A mirror? I don't recall that."  
  
"I'm sure you would. You got it from the medusa."  
  
"Oh that mirror." The trader snorted, literally, and shouted back through the open door: "PENNY!   
  
PEGGY! WHERE'S THAT BIG MIRROR WE JUST GOT?"  
  
Melissa cringed, never having imagined a pig's squeal could be that piercing. Two more pig   
  
people popped through the door and came around the counter, grunting and oinking. It was astonishingly   
  
noisy. These two were wearing perfect little dresses.   
  
"You don't have to shout, Petey," one of them pouted.   
  
"Oh my God," Melissa whispered to Terry. "It's the Three Little Pigs, isn't it?"  
  
The older woman nodded. "Penny, Peggy, and Petey, apparently."  
  
Giggles bubbled up in her throat like a spring, and Melissa looked away from the pigs, staring   
  
around the room in desperation. She tried to listen to their conversation, knowing that their goal here was   
  
very serious, but every time one of the pigs oinked, she had to press her lips more tightly together, until her   
  
mouth started to go numb.  
  
"What do you mean you don't have it?" Wendell was saying, his sharp words taking the edge off   
  
of her laughter.   
  
The first pig, Petey, puffed up. "I mean just what I say! We don't have it anymore. Some thief   
  
stole it yesterday when we were out foraging."  
  
An image of the three of them snuffling for truffles flashed mercilessly through Melissa's   
  
thoughts. She squeezed Sport so hard he yeowled.   
  
Wendell was frowning at her again, but this time he kept that frown for Petey the pig, as well.   
  
"How can someone steal a mirror that size?"  
  
"That's what I'd like to know!" he answered. "I don't know what's so special about this mirror   
  
anyway."  
  
"It's actually quite important. It's a traveling mirror."  
  
"A traveling mirror!" The pig's eyes managed to widen, then promptly narrow. "How do you   
  
know?"  
  
"Because I'm King Wendell," he paused, and then added, "'s manservant."   
  
Obviously he'd given up on trying to convince people he was a king, Melissa noted. For a   
  
moment it hurt to breathe, thinking of him lying to her.   
  
One of the pig ladies stepped forward. "How'd King Wendell lose the traveling mirror? That's   
  
very irresponsible!"  
  
"Very irresponsible," the other one, Peggy, Melissa guessed, agreed.  
  
"It was an accident." She could see his whole body tense, and noticed the way his cheek twitched   
  
when he was upset.   
  
Petey pondered this, then shook his head. "You don't have accidents with traveling mirrors, King   
  
or not."   
  
"Look what he did with those wolves, though!" Penny piped in.   
  
"Too true," Petey agreed.   
  
"Shameful," Peggy mourned.  
  
Wendell's cheek was like a living thing as he stared at the three pigs. "Shameful?" he asked,   
  
drawing the word out on a long, slow breath. Melissa watched, feeling almost drugged.  
  
Penny nodded and leaned forward. "Very irresponsible. You don't pardon all wolves simply   
  
because one was different. And he was only a half-wolf, at that!"  
  
"It's a disgrace. King Wendell doesn't have to live down here with us. He doesn't know wolves   
  
like we do. Why, my grandfather Paul was almost eaten by a wolf."  
  
"I believe, I mean, King Wendell believes that wolves do not receive fair treatment. They are   
  
accused of all crimes, when they hardly commit any if properly supplied for."  
  
"So now our hard-earned Wendells' have to go to support those filthy wolves? You tell that King   
  
of yours that he best get his head out of his--"  
  
"Petey!" Peggy cut in. She managed, Melissa had no idea how, to blush. "He's still a little bitter   
  
due to his parents losing their house to a wolf."  
  
Wendell didn't look appeased. But then, neither did Petey.  
  
"Still, I have to agree with Petey, Peggy," Penny added. "King Wendell doesn't have to be out   
  
here when it's a full moon and the woods are filled with all that howling. It's very frightening. I fear for   
  
the little ones." Melissa's mind supplied the image of a load of little piglets tottering around.   
  
"They're ravenous beasts and they should all be killed!" Petey exploded.  
  
"That'll do, pig," Wendell said, his voice low.  
  
The words triggered a reaction in Melissa, and she started shaking, her body jerking with laughter   
  
she tried hard to hold in. Her vision grew blurry, and tears streamed down her cheeks, falling across her   
  
numb lips.   
  
Everyone in the room stared at her with the worried eyes of those who feared someone nearby was   
  
dangerously unpredictable.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," Melissa managed between breaths. She let go of Sport, who meowed pitifully and   
  
rubbed against Wendell's legs. "I-I need some air." Biting down hard on her lower lip to keep from   
  
laughing again, she hurried to the door, throwing it open and escaping into the sunlight. She took time to   
  
close the door behind her before doubling over and letting the laughs roll out of her.  
  
It was madness and therapy, and she had every reason and no reason at all to be doing it. By the   
  
time the last, hiccuped breath had gone, Melissa was exhausted. She was sitting on the ground, her legs   
  
stretched out in front of her. To the side, Terry stood patiently, smiling.  
  
"Feeling better?"  
  
Melissa considered it, and took a deep breath to cleanse out the last vestiges of tension. "Much,"   
  
she agreed.  
  
"I haven't seen you laugh, really laugh, for years, Missy."  
  
"Please, don't start that," she groaned, getting to her feet. "We're not going to get sentimental just   
  
because I happen to find the Three Little Pigs hysterically amusing." She smiled even as she said it. "I   
  
don't know what it was, but I think Wendell facing them down was a big part of it." Melissa eyed the   
  
closed door. "Wonder what they're doing in there."  
  
"They were arguing when I left."  
  
"How long have you been out here?"  
  
"Long enough."   
  
"God, Terry, where did you ever learn that Mona Lisa-enigmatic-stuff?"  
  
Terry laughed then, and hugged Melissa tightly. "From you."  
  
The door flew open and Wendell stomped out, followed by Sport, slamming it shut behind them   
  
again. "I just...I really just cannot believe -- of all the ignorant, pompous..." he growled, doglike. "Well,   
  
that did not go over as well as I had hoped."  
  
"Pig problems?" Terry snickered at that, and Melissa cracked a smile at her own joke.   
  
Wendell rolled his eyes skyward. "Really, Melissa, what was all that about?"  
  
"I'm sorry." She held up her hands apologetically. "I know that really didn't help anything, but I   
  
couldn't control it. In my world those are the Three Little Pigs."  
  
"They're the three little pigs here, too."  
  
"Yes but..." she shook her head. "I don't think I could explain this one to you right now."  
  
"Later then?"  
  
"Of course." Melissa smiled at him, hoping to see his sparkling grin in return. "Do you forgive   
  
me?" She batted her eyelashes like one of the myriad characters she'd played.   
  
Wendell responded with a flashing humor, his eyes lighting up. "Perhaps." He leaned in towards   
  
her, until their faces were inches away. "Why should I?"  
  
She opened her mouth, the words, 'because you love me,' hanging on her lips and stopping there,   
  
frightened. Instead she shrugged, looking away from him. "Because I didn't mean any harm," she offered   
  
instead.  
  
He must have felt the sudden shift as well, because he quickly straightened. "How could I refuse,   
  
then," he said, his voice rough. "Isn't that right, Teresa?"  
  
Terry murmured something non-committal. Melissa could feel her steady gaze. "Where do we go   
  
now?" she asked, hoping to break the thick silence.  
  
"I believe it's time we paid a visit to Antony."  
  
"The guy from my world?"  
  
"Yes." Wendell was all seriousness now. "He deserves to know that his only way home, his only   
  
way back to his daughter, was stolen. His castle is closer to us than my own, although it's farther north.   
  
Maybe we'll find a clue on the way. Princess Aileen's castle is that direction, she might have heard   
  
something as well."  
  
Melissa shrugged, having no way of knowing where any of these places were. "Ok. We should   
  
get going then, we have a few hours before it's going to get dark."  
  
"We'll need the time to get food, as well. I was going to get some here but..." he waved vaguely.   
  
"That obviously fell through. Are you ready, then?" Wendell looked first at Terry, then Melissa. She met   
  
his gaze, strangely pleased that their adventure here wasn't over yet. The mirror was more lost now than it   
  
had been, but she felt more relaxed and confident as well. Besides, didn't fairy tales always end in 'happily   
  
ever after'? They'd have to find the mirror, and then they'd go home. What was another day or two?  
  
"I'm ready."  
  
**********  
  
Grojavek patted the shrunken mirror in his pocket and squealed. He had it back! It had been hard   
  
-- he'd almost drowned, twice -- but he had it! He skipped along until the mirror started to grow heavy   
  
again.  
  
"Stupid woman!" he squeaked. The dust She'd given him hardly worked at all. He'd be out of it   
  
long before he got the mirror back to Her. She'd probably planned it all along. Groj could see that now.  
  
Groj could see a lot of things, now, with Muklavuk's help. The Great Imp was making him   
  
smarter and braver every day. He never would have stolen the mirror from those terrifying pigs without   
  
Muklavuk's help. And the Great Imp was going to help him get back at Her, too.   
  
She thought Groj was stupid!   
  
"Groj best Imp in all the Ten Kingdoms!" he shouted proudly. A big bird cawed angrily and he   
  
shrank behind a rock. Muklavuk only helped when it counted.   
  
Suddenly the wind picked up, moaning and sighing around him, brushing against his skin and   
  
making him shiver. He started babbling, knowing it was Her, trying to call him, trying to get him. "You   
  
won't get me!" he squeaked. "You never get me!" The wind howled softly and wrapped itself around his   
  
legs, slowing him. "Nooooooo!" He couldn't afford to walk even slower!  
  
"I have the mirror," he told Her. "You stupid woman, I have mirror!" Grojavek slapped both   
  
large hands over his tiny mouth, terrified at his own courage. That must be the Great Imp talking so boldly.   
  
She was not happy, if the low growling of the wind showed anything, but it eventually died and let his legs   
  
go. "I get you the mirror," he promised. The wind brushed past him, and then the forest grew silent.  
  
Groj stopped where he was and listened.   
  
There were no sounds. No breeze, no birds, not even any yummy squirrels. There was simply   
  
nothing at all. "Hello?" he whispered, afraid of the silence, just as afraid to break it.  
  
As though he'd called them to life, all the birds shrieked at once. The sound was a storm, raining   
  
down on Groj with the leaves and feathers, pouring angry birdcalls. He shrieked with them and flew out of   
  
the forest as fast as he could. He had to get rid of this elf-all mirror! He knew She was going to kill him   
  
soon if he didn't.   
  
And in the darkest corners of his mind, the Great Imp plotted.  
  
**********  
  
Rena slammed her hand into the rock wall of her cavern, and screamed as the fragile flesh caught   
  
and ripped along the jagged edges. Blood smeared darkly down the stone, dripping from her hand to the   
  
floor. "By Tritan's Spear," she hissed at the unexpected pain.   
  
Pain was both a blessing and a curse in this new form.   
  
The blood stopped quickly, the wound already starting to heal. But the regeneration would take   
  
some part of the souls she stored. She would need another soon, before her confrontation with Wendell.   
  
Assuming that idiotic imp ever found his way back to her. Kneeling, Rena drew her fingers through the   
  
small pool of blood, making a faint, ancient design on the ground.  
  
She couldn't believe it when he had responded so brashly. Did he not know how insignificant he   
  
was to her? The only reason she left him alive now was because of time. The wind did not know where   
  
Wendell was, it only knew where he was not. Whatever the ignorant people of the land believed, King   
  
Wendell was not at his castle, and certainly not vacationing at that buffon's castle, either.   
  
The Four Heroes. Rena scoffed out loud, dragging her fingers through the blood again. Only two   
  
were really worth anything, the girl and the King. And the girl had already gone home, beyond her reach.   
  
She tasted the blood on her fingers. It was tangy with the taste of salt and minerals.   
  
Wendell's blood would taste powerful. She could feel it on her lips already, imagined the energy   
  
of his soul.   
  
*I cannot wait* she thought. The revenge burned bright and deep, more than the souls could   
  
handle. She needed Wendell's strength soon. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to call on one more ally, in case the   
  
imp failed. The good half of Rena's face pulled itself into a smile.   
  
First she needed to replenish her power.  
  
She straightened and walked into the middle of the room, calling the wind back to her. It resisted   
  
at first, and then came, pouring into her outstretched arms, engulfing her. Her hair whipped against her   
  
cheeks, leaving small welts. When she was filled with the wind's force, she began shouting.  
  
They were old words, words more of forgotten dreams than anything she'd really learned. She   
  
didn't know where they came from, and didn't question. The wind blew away and merged with the sea,   
  
pulling it up forcibly. The two elements spun together, growing and pounding and crashing their way   
  
towards shore.   
  
Rena felt it when the first souls died.  
  
It was the same every time. She waited for the wind and water to do their work, and then life   
  
coursed through her, speeding the beat of her sluggish heart. A little girl screamed in her mind, and then   
  
the soul was devoured into Rena's own essence. Another one, this a woman, joined the first, followed by   
  
two more women. It was a rich harvest. The children always had so much more life.  
  
The wind cut off sharply, and she collapsed to the ground. She felt like her insides were pushing   
  
at her skin, trying to spill out. These first minutes were torturously painful, but soon the pain would   
  
subside and she would have only the energy. The energy and the power.  
  
When she could stand again, Rena started the task of calling her new ally.  
  
********** 


	3. Part 3

"Do you remember anything about your parents?"  
  
Melissa looked up, eyeing Wendell. She had Sport in her arms, the big cat sleeping soundly.   
  
Another day of travel had passed and the group had arrived in Peatown, the small portion of the Fourth   
  
Kingdom that Princess Aileen ruled. They were at the outer edges now, passing small farms and large   
  
families. There were rows and rows of short crops that were, unsurprisingly, peas. After a moment,   
  
Melissa answered him. "No. I was only two."  
  
Wendell watched a young boy chasing a dog around, until the boy was called back by a single,   
  
sharp word from an older woman. "My parents died when I was young, too."  
  
"Really?" She shifted the cat in her arms, and Wendell found himself jealous of Sport.   
  
"Yes. The Evil Queen poisoned them. She tried to kill me, too, but they caught her. That is why   
  
she was in Snow White Memorial Prison."  
  
"How old were you?"  
  
"I was ten when my mother died and fourteen when my father died." Wendell felt that familiar   
  
ache for what might have been.   
  
"You must have some memories, then."  
  
"Yes." They passed by a man leading a team of oxen. "And a portrait of each, as well." He   
  
looked at Melissa in time to see the passing of some unknown emotion on her face.  
  
"I have one picture of my mother. I don't know what my dad looked like at all. He died before I   
  
was born, and they had no pictures from the old country." She was gripping Sport more tightly now, a sign   
  
Wendell had started recognizing. It meant something had terribly upset her.  
  
"What is the old country?"  
  
"It's another place in my world. They immigrated from there to Los Angeles just before I was   
  
born."  
  
Wendell nodded his understanding, and they continued their walk in silence. Teresa had spent   
  
most of the day even with them, but was hanging back now. Whenever he looked back on her, she had her   
  
eyes on the people, a soft smile on her face. She looked so content that he simply let her be.   
  
He wished he could do the same with Melissa.  
  
Most of the day she'd talked with Teresa, occasionally pressing him for information on the nine   
  
kingdoms and their inhabitants, and sharing a lot of information with him on the Tenth Kingdom. It had   
  
been a pleasant, diverting conversation, and for awhile Wendell had forgotten that she would leave him,   
  
eventually, without ever knowing how he cared for her.  
  
He looked back over his shoulder again, but Teresa seemed absorbed in the play of several boys   
  
off the side of the path. Soon she would have to distract Melissa again, before he did something foolish.   
  
Yesterday had nearly been a disaster, when he had acted so recklessly after his argument with the Pigs. He   
  
had nearly kissed her, had seen the desire hiding in her own eyes and had been ready to take advantage of   
  
it. Though he'd been upset when she'd turned away yesterday, today he was mostly relieved.   
  
It was good that Sport kept Melissa's hands full now, leaving conversation as their only   
  
connection. But talking to her seemed almost worse than touching her. At least the thrill of feeling her   
  
skin could be a purely physical attraction. This deep need to know what she was thinking, to know   
  
everything about her, lay bare the truth of his feelings.   
  
*Feelings I can never show her because she lives a world away.* He knew this was what Wolf   
  
must have felt for Virginia. *But he's with Virginia, isn't he?* Wendell thought, the sharp edge of   
  
bitterness slicing his heart. *He had nothing here without her. I ... I have a Kingdom. People who can't   
  
even decide how to keep their bloody chickens separate.* A growl burned low in his throat, and Melissa's   
  
head jerked towards him, her eyebrows raised.  
  
Wendell cleared his throat loudly, thumping a fist on his chest.   
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Fine." He smiled thinly, gesturing at the area to distract them both. "This land is a part   
  
of the Fourth Kingdom, but Princess Aileen acts as general ruler. The Fourth Kingdom is too large for me   
  
to effectively rule it alone, and Aileen's line has ruled here for generations."  
  
"What fairy tale is she from?"  
  
"Fairy tale?" He considered it, shrugging. "I really don't know what it would be in your world.   
  
Remember, Melissa, here she is just a princess." He smiled, softening the words.   
  
Sport woke then, meowing loudly. "Sporty," Melissa cooed, her features lighting as she kissed   
  
him on the head. Wendell hid his distaste of the cat from her, instead looking at the main part of Peatown.   
  
Melissa let Sport down, and the cat darted ahead several feet and stopped to stretch. Just beyond him, the   
  
small farms gave way to buildings packed more tightly together, and the dirt path turned into a cobblestone   
  
street. It reminded Wendell of a much more serious Kissingtown. All of the buildings had peas or a   
  
peapod on them in some way, and many had small paintings of the Princess. She looked lovely in all of   
  
them, her long hair always hanging loose, her large brown eyes always smiling.   
  
Wendell hoped those eyes would see through the dirt and the rumors to the man beneath. He   
  
wanted to get the women real food and real beds and real rest. He and Aileen had been friends since they   
  
were babies, and they both knew their parents had hoped for marriage. They had tried to arrange it when   
  
Wendell was seven, just before Snow White left the castle. But the great Queen had been adamantly   
  
against an arranged marriage. It had been one of her last commands, and it had been whispered about for   
  
years after she'd gone.  
  
"You must never betroth Wendell," she had warned his father. "We of the House of White walk   
  
the path of true love, and no one can find it but the traveler. If someone else tries, you will only condemn   
  
him to misery." She had made his father promise never to arrange a marriage, and the man had stayed true   
  
to his word.   
  
After Wendell had been crowned, he had considered asking Aileen to be his wife, at a loss for   
  
anyone he would trust as much, but that had been before Melissa. Marrying Aileen now would be a   
  
betrayal of the heart, and he wanted no part of it.   
  
The castle appeared suddenly on the horizon, small and stunning. He heard Melissa's small gasp   
  
and then a soft, appreciative noise. Many, many years ago, one of Aileen's line had found a vein of marble   
  
and had covered the castle's walls with it. Even now, it still glistened in the sunlight, begging to be noticed.   
  
"How beautiful." Teresa stood on Melissa's other side, staring at the castle as well.   
  
"They take very good care of their castle. You should see it during a ball." Wendell smiled, and   
  
started forward again, anxious to be there. "It seems to dance with the torchlight."  
  
The three arrived at the entrance several minutes later, Sport tagging along behind them. It was   
  
fairly empty at the gates this late in the afternoon. One of the guards, garbed in the green and brown of   
  
Aileen's colors, waved them forward.  
  
"What's your business?" he intoned flatly.   
  
"We've come to see the Princess Aileen."  
  
"All questions, begging, and fawning are done for the day. Come back tomorrow."  
  
Wendell glanced at the two women, who both shrugged. They seemed more interested in studying   
  
the beauty of the stonework. He inhaled slowly and faced the guards. "Sir, I am King Wendell. It is   
  
imperative that I speak with the Princess."  
  
He could see the derision starting and had braced himself when the other guard held out a hand.  
  
"Wait a minute, Dirk." They held a whispered conversation, Dirk grunting unhappily. Finally, the   
  
other guard motioned for Wendell and the women to follow him. "This way," he ordered. "And pick up   
  
your cat." Teresa quickly gathered Sport into her arms and they followed after the guard, silent. Wendell   
  
glanced at the two women, but neither seemed particularly concerned or surprised.   
  
The entranceway of the castle's interior was a huge 'T', each hall ending in doors. The floor was   
  
marble, with rugs laid out at even intervals. Tapestries and portraits lined the walls, a visual history of   
  
Aileen's family. In the very center of the room on a man-sized pedastal was a bronze pea, several feet in   
  
diameter.   
  
"Princess and the Pea," Melissa murmured. "Of course."  
  
"Stay here." The guard gave Wendell a searching look, and then abruptly turned and headed down   
  
the left hallway.   
  
He felt Melissa edge closer to him, until their shoulders were touching, both of them staring at the   
  
bronze pea. "So," she said. "Do you think they believe you?"  
  
Wendell wanted to grab her by the arm and ask her the same question. Beg her to believe him.   
  
Aileen's belief didn't matter, if Melissa thought he was lying. Instead he shrugged, clasping his hands   
  
behind his back. "I am not sure. I can't imagine why they would let us in otherwise. But this is not   
  
generally where Aileen receives important guests."   
  
"But it's possible. I mean, that they believe you."  
  
He turned his head, watching her. "It is possible, yes."  
  
She met his gaze, slowly. "That you're a king."  
  
"Yes."   
  
"And you haven't been lying."  
  
He smiled and lifted his hand, ready to push the hair back out of her eyes.  
  
"Wendell?" His hand dropped and he turned, looking down the corridor to the right to see Aileen   
  
gaping openly. "Is that you?"  
  
"Aileen! It's me, you must believe me."  
  
She took a few steps closer, her slippered feet silent on the marble floor. "It's hard to believe ... "  
  
"I know." He held out a hand helplessly. "Ask me a question. Anything."  
  
"How do I know you haven't been prepared for questions?"  
  
Wendell sighed, wishing for a moment she'd lost some of her perceptiveness. "Please Aileen.   
  
Something only Wendell would know."  
  
"All right." Her gaze flicked to Melissa, traveled down the other woman's form, and then moved   
  
back to Wendell. "Two years ago, what did we do the night after your birthday ball? And what does the   
  
kingdom believe we did?"   
  
He felt Melissa's gaze stab him in the back, and his neck grew warm. "Ah," he cleared his throat,   
  
nervous. "Well, the Kingdom believes that we ... ah, slept together, but we didn't," he added in a rush.   
  
"We spent the night talking and drinking until we passed out on my bed." Wendell looked behind him, but   
  
Melissa was studying the bronze pea carefully. "That's all that happened," he pleaded, no longer speaking   
  
to Aileen.  
  
"You didn't sound so grateful about that two years ago," Aileen said, coming to stand next to him.   
  
When he turned to face her, she put a hand on each of his cheeks and kissed him solidly. "Welcome back,   
  
Wendell. I missed you."  
  
He stood there in shock until she broke the kiss and gestured at Melissa. "Who are they? And   
  
why are you all so dirty?"   
  
Wendell blinked, slowly, certain that he couldn't be anymore mortified at that moment.   
  
"I'm Melissa, this is Teresa. We're from the Tenth Kingdom." The words sliced between them.  
  
"Ohhhhh," Aileen's eyes widened and she smiled coyly at Wendell, taking his arm in hers. "That's   
  
where that lovely Virginia was from, wasn't it? How cute." He knew, suddenly, that he was wrong -- it   
  
was possible to be more embarrassed. And he felt certain Aileen was going to bring them to new limits.   
  
**********  
  
"What, by the Queen, was that all about?" Wendell demanded several minutes later. He had   
  
explained everything about Melissa's situation and the mirror to Aileen while she'd walked them to the   
  
guestrooms. The entire time, she'd held onto Wendell's arm, flirting openly with him and insinuating a   
  
relationship that didn't actually exist. If she hadn't been a Princess, and if his ingrained etiquette hadn't   
  
been so strong, he would have yelled at her long before this. But now that the other two women were in   
  
their rooms getting cleaned up, his tongue felt sharp and loose.  
  
"What are you talking about, dear?" Aileen was leading him to his private guest room now.  
  
"The way you're acting! It's shameless. And it's a lie."  
  
She laughed softly. "She's quite beautiful, you know. Quite ... " she paused, then snapped her   
  
fingers. "Ethereal. Yes."  
  
He blinked, unprepared for the swift change of subject. "Yes," he answered, guarded. "She is also   
  
very kind and doesn't need you insulting her or acting like this."  
  
"Really, Wendell, you're so dense sometimes."  
  
"Dense? Aileen, stop playing games with me. What are you up to?"  
  
They stopped in the middle of the empty corridor, and she laid a hand on his arm. "I'm helping   
  
you."  
  
"Helping!"  
  
"Yes. Helping. It's quite obvious how you feel about her. I saw the way you were looking at her   
  
before I cut you off. My goodness, Wendell, I could actually feel it. But her," she patted his arm and   
  
started walking again, "she's not so obvious. It's there, in her eyes and her reaction. I was just testing her.   
  
If she hadn't seemed upset, then I would have stopped, although it was rather enjoyable." Aileen winked.   
  
"I only continued to drive the point home. A little competition does wonders for decision-making."  
  
Wendell hurried after her, dumbfounded. "I'd thank you to stop, Aileen. Regardless of what you   
  
thought you saw between us, Melissa doesn't need your 'help' in making any sort of decision. She is free to   
  
do whatever she wants, and you and I both will stay out of it."  
  
"Oh Wendell." She looked into his eyes, and he was surprised by the sadness he saw there. "How   
  
do you live each day, believing that?"  
  
He shook his head, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you mean," he whispered. But that   
  
was a lie. The mere thought of the days when she would be gone slashed his heart with vibrant pain. "It's   
  
because I love her," he said roughly.  
  
Aileen made a disapproving 'tsk.' "So it's the "I'll be noble and set her free because I think I know   
  
what she wants and now I'll be miserable for the rest of my life" routine?"  
  
"You don't understand." His words needled him, drawing out his anger.  
  
"Maybe I don't. I've never been in love like that. I don't imagine I ever will. It's a trait that   
  
always seemed particular to the truly great."  
  
They stopped in front of the door to his room. Wendell ran his hand over the intricately carved   
  
wood while he struggled for words. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Aileen," he finally managed,   
  
"but stop it. The situation is not as simple as it seems, and it doesn't need your help. This is best for   
  
everyone, not just Melissa, and she especially doesn't need to know how I feel."  
  
"Doesn't need to know? How long have you two been traveling together?"  
  
Wendell's brow furrowed. "A few days, I believe."  
  
"Trust me dear, she knows." Aileen opened up the door, and looked inside, nodding her approval.   
  
"Good, the servants are done cleaning."   
  
"You did know it was me."  
  
"Of course, Wendell." She smiled warmly. "Since you arrived at the gate, actually. I could pick   
  
you out of a crowd, no matter what you were dressed like. Although," she plucked at his dirty clothing, her   
  
nose wrinkled. "This almost worked. You'll have to tell me more about this later. We can talk about   
  
Melissa more, too, when you're clean and thinking clearly."  
  
"No. No more talk of her, I won't have it. And no more games, either. This is my business, leave   
  
it be."  
  
"Yes, your Highness." Aileen curtsied, and he knew he had hurt her. Wendell groaned inwardly.   
  
*Women.*  
  
"May I say one last thing?" she whispered.  
  
He sighed. "One."  
  
"You don't know for sure that it might not be the best thing for everyone, including Melissa. It's   
  
love, Wendell, how awful could it be? Now, have a bath," she continued without waiting for an answer.   
  
"And put on some more appropriate clothes. We're dining in an hour." She kissed him swiftly on the   
  
cheek and walked off, her step silent.  
  
**********  
  
  
  
*Wendell is a King,* Melissa repeated to herself for the fiftieth time that evening, swallowing   
  
down the last piece of cake. She brushed at the skirt of her simple dress, thankful to be clean and in clean   
  
clothes. The pale yellow dress she wore made her feel more a part of this medieval world. Wendell had   
  
changed into fresh clothes as well. She looked at him again, all of the dirt and grime gone. It was a   
  
startling change to see him in the crisp white shirt, the blue trim matching his eyes. He looked very ...   
  
kingly.   
  
The royalty didn't awe her, though she now regretted some of her earlier comments to him,   
  
because she'd had some experience with it before. Movie stars were as much as royalty in her world, and   
  
she'd been casual friends with Princess Diana and had grown accustomed to the feel of it. The hard part   
  
was the fact that the whole time he had been telling the truth, that all her reasons for not trusting him -- not   
  
trusting her feelings for him -- had been washed away with the dirt.   
  
What would she do now?  
  
She leaned back in her chair and exhaled slowly, trying to take her mind off of it. "That is the   
  
most food I have ever eaten. My compliments to your chef."  
  
Aileen smiled, finishing off the last of her own food. Melissa wasn't sure what had happened, but   
  
the woman's behavior was remarkably changed from earlier, even downright friendly. The dinner had   
  
passed with pleasant ease between the women, with no flirting between the royalty. She knew Wendell had   
  
hardly looked at Aileen all evening, because Melissa had felt his eyes on her instead. Whenever she looked   
  
up at him, his gaze was always elsewhere, but when she looked away, it returned immediately. It was   
  
starting to bug her.   
  
"You certainly earned a good meal, by your tale. I just wish you had found the mirror, it is a   
  
terrible thing that someone stole it."  
  
"I know." Wendell broke in, pushing his own half-full plate away. He had been quiet most of the   
  
meal. "We don't know where it is. We don't know who took it, or who has it now even. It is just an   
  
incredible disaster."  
  
"We can still find it," Melissa insisted.  
  
He met her eyes for the first time that evening and didn't say a word. He didn't need to.   
  
"Still," Aileen said, "I'm not sure why you don't just return to your castle. If we alert the citizens   
  
of the kingdom --"  
  
"And let them know that their king lost a traveling mirror? Oh, yes, Aileen, what a wonderful   
  
idea. Then we can just send the trolls an invite and have them come over, too." He picked up his knife and   
  
then slammed it down again.  
  
Melissa shared a quick look with the other two women. Wendell had also been sulky since he'd   
  
sat down, and anxious. Whatever had happened between him and Aileen had not gone over well. "You   
  
don't have to be rude, Wendell," she said, feeling sorry for the princess.   
  
He dragged one hand down his face, sighing. "It is bad enough that I ran away. If the Kingdom   
  
finds out about the mirror ... they need their peace of mind, right now. I am not helping anything."  
  
"The mirror wasn't your fault," she reminded him.  
  
"And," Aileen added, "you were running after the mirror. I think that's quite noble. I'm sure your   
  
people would see it the same way."  
  
Wendell took a piece of meat and set it down on the ground. When Melissa glanced under the   
  
table, she saw Sport crouched by his feet, gnawing happily on the food. "I don't know. Maybe you're right.   
  
My advisors are quite gifted at that sort of thing. They can probably convince everyone I did something   
  
right."  
  
The three women all shook their heads, and Aileen stood up. "We can discuss this further   
  
tomorrow morning," she announced. "You all must be exhausted. I know I am," she said, her smile forced.   
  
"If you'll excuse me?" Melissa and Terry nodded, and Wendell pushed himself to his feet, though he still   
  
fiddled with the knife. They all watched Aileen walk away without making a noise.   
  
Teresa yawned, standing as well. " I really am exhausted," she said. "Especially after that meal. I   
  
think I'll turn in. Don't stay up too late, Missy."  
  
Melissa rolled her eyes. Even in the midst of a fairy tale kingdom, at a princess' table, Terry still   
  
managed to mother her. "I won't," she said, rising to give her a hug.  
  
"You either, Wendell dear."  
  
Wendell looked up, and for a moment, he smiled. "Sleep well, Teresa."  
  
The older woman gathered Sport into her arms and left the room. When they were alone, they   
  
both sat back down, watching each other. No one else was in the small dining hall, not even servants. The   
  
whole castle felt asleep.   
  
"What happened between you two earlier?"  
  
Wendell flinched. "You are direct sometimes, aren't you?"  
  
"When I need to be. You've been acting really strange tonight. And you were awfully sharp with   
  
the Princess."  
  
"Aileen and I have been friends for a long time, she understands." He shoved the knife away,   
  
across the table, and folded his hands in his lap. "Don't you do the same with Terry?"  
  
"We're not talking about me and Terry."  
  
"Well maybe we should."  
  
"Our relationship has nothing to do with this."  
  
"I haven't seen you in a dress before. You look beautiful."  
  
She flushed, but pressed the issue. "Direct isn't going to work tonight, is it?"  
  
His eyes glimmered in the light from the candles on the table. "No."  
  
Melissa sighed, tapping her nail against her glass, the quiet ring lost in the room. "So why is   
  
Aileen exhausted?" she finally asked.  
  
Whatever was seething in Wendell's eyes suddenly dimmed, and he stared down at his hands.   
  
"She doesn't sleep very well. She never has. It's a family trait."  
  
"Like a curse?"  
  
"No, it's just a trait. It's just who they are. You seem to know the story of her grandmother, don't   
  
you?"  
  
Melissa frowned, and then realized that the Princess and the Pea was not Aileen at all, but Aileen's   
  
grandmother. *What was that story?* she thought. It had been years and years since she'd heard it, and it   
  
had never seemed that important to her anyway. "Something about ... let me think. She slept on a tall stack   
  
of mattresses, didn't she? And there was a pea at the bottom and she could feel it? I don't really   
  
remember." She felt guilty for that, sitting here at Aileen's table.  
  
"Once upon a time," Wendell said, the words flowing naturally from him, "a prince was looking   
  
for a bride. He and his mother, the Queen, looked for a very long time, but could never find a true princess,   
  
someone of real nobility. They both became very frustrated and were thinking of giving up their search,   
  
the prince to remain without a wife for the rest of his days.   
  
"One day, a young woman came to the door, asking if the prince had been married yet. The   
  
guards said no and took her to the Queen to be questioned, as had all the others. The Queen asked her   
  
many things, and the young woman seemed to be a true princess. But several others had passed the   
  
Queen's questioning, only to fail at the final test." Wendell lay his hands flat on the table, watching Melissa   
  
again. His voice was warm and smooth and hypnotizing.  
  
"The young woman very much wanted to marry the Prince, for he was known as a kind and   
  
handsome man throughout his kingdom, and what woman wouldn't want to be Queen? So she eagerly   
  
agreed to the Queen's final test. She was taken to a room, and in the room was a single bed, and nothing   
  
more. On the bed were layer upon layer of blankets, until they rose almost to the young woman's head.   
  
"You shall sleep here tonight," the Queen said, pointing to the pile. "On top of all of these blankets. Then,   
  
in the morning, you shall take the final test." The young woman thought it was a bit strange, but agreed   
  
and climbed onto the top of the bed with help from the footstool.   
  
"The next morning, the young woman was brought before the Queen again, and asked a few more   
  
questions. But the entire time, she could not stop yawning, and she looked very tired, as though she hadn't   
  
slept at all. "My dear," the Queen asked, "did you not sleep well? I left you a pile of blankets to sleep on   
  
so you would be more comfortable."  
  
""My Queen," the young woman replied, curtseying low, "the bed indeed looked comfortable, but   
  
someone left a pea at the very bottom of the blankets, and I couldn't fall asleep." The Queen smiled and   
  
hugged the young woman and called her daughter, saying that she had passed the final test. For only a   
  
woman of true nobility would be sensitive enough to feel the pea. And so the young woman, Aileen's   
  
grandmother, was married to the prince." He stopped, and the silence settled quickly between them.  
  
"And they lived happily ever after?" Melissa whispered, almost afraid to ask.  
  
"And they lived happily ever after, yes. For a time. But the new Queen never slept very well after   
  
that, and neither did her daughter, nor her granddaughter. There is no bed that has been made that has not   
  
had some flaw that they did not find."  
  
"Wow." It had never occurred to her that the people of the myths she had grown up with had lives   
  
after the 'happily ever after.' It had never occurred to her that they had lives at all, until coming here. "So   
  
Aileen still hasn't found a suitable bed?"  
  
Wendell shook his head, smiling sadly. "Not for lack of trying. Bed-makers across the kingdom   
  
have tried when she has asked, but none has succeeded."  
  
"That's so sad."  
  
"She gets by." He licked his lips, glancing around them. "Many nights she uses magic, or alcohol,   
  
to fall asleep. But that drains her in other ways. And no one knows but me," he added, leaning forward.   
  
"I won't tell anyone. I would never that do that to someone else. Besides, I can empathize with   
  
her, in a way."  
  
"As can I."   
  
She shook her head, knowing what it was like to want so badly to go to sleep and to be unable to   
  
that you had to resort to such measures. "It's so tragic, though. The very thing that made her grandmother   
  
happy has affected her family this way."  
  
Wendell stretched his hand across the table, palm up, and Melissa looked at it for a long moment.   
  
His eyes were on her face as she slowly put her hand in his. Her skin tingled from his warmth.   
  
"You are an incredible woman," he murmured.   
  
"Me?" she looked at their hands, half-lit by candlelight. On the shadowed side, they looked as   
  
one. "I just feel sorry for her."  
  
"It is the fact that you care at all, when you have no reason to. When you have so much else to   
  
worry about. I find it remarkable." He squeezed her hand gently, pulling it, and her gaze, to his lips. He   
  
kissed her fingers softly, and she felt the heat of it long after he stopped.  
  
"Wendell." She found herself breathing unevenly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."  
  
"It doesn't matter now." He stood, taking her hand with him until she stood as well. "Will you   
  
walk with me for a bit? I must talk to you."   
  
She pulled her hand away and came around the table, taking his arm. He smelled of soap and   
  
smoke and the spicy meat they'd eaten. While they walked out of the dining room, she fingered the crisp   
  
fabric of his shirt and tried not to stare up at him like a lovestruck girl.   
  
Though she knew it wasn't far from the truth.  
  
Melissa wasn't surprised at all when they ended up in a beautiful, dark garden for their walk. The   
  
moon, just over half-full, was not enough to disturb the cloying shadows. The air was cool, and a soft wind   
  
caressed the flowers gently, filling the night with sweet smells.   
  
She glanced up when Wendell simply stood there, but he didn't move or look down, so she leaned   
  
her head on his shoulder and waited for him to talk. She wouldn't be the one to break the moment. He   
  
remained quiet as well, instead slowly bringing his fingers up and tracing her cheek. The touch was as   
  
gentle as the night breeze. It was so much like a movie scene, that Melissa waited for someone to yell 'cut'   
  
and flip the lights on.  
  
Pulling away from him a little, she looked into his eyes, wondering what words he had brought her   
  
out here to say, hoping to see her feelings reflected there. The moonlight glimmered off of his golden hair,   
  
and she tugged gently on a soft curl, but still he stared out into the dark night, seemingly not aware of her   
  
presence.  
  
A night bird twittered in a nearby tree, playing a soft score to the scene. It was all so perfect. It   
  
was such a fairy tale.   
  
"What did you want to say?" she asked, suddenly frightened. Movies never ended on these perfect   
  
scenes.   
  
A sad smile broke across his lips. "I'm not sure, really. I just wanted to be near you." Melissa   
  
wondered at the ache that touched those words, until he finally looked at her and she was captured by his   
  
eyes.   
  
Cautiously, Melissa slipped her hand up to his cheek, through his soft hair and then to the warm   
  
skin of his neck. He tensed under her touch, but she pulled him towards her anyway, and he did little to   
  
resist. She watched him watching her, his eyes dark and wide as she pressed her lips, and then her body,   
  
against his. He tensed again, and for a moment she thought he would pull away. But he wrapped his arms   
  
around her and pulled her even closer, closing his eyes. She closed her own, and in the darkness he filled   
  
her senses. Sound and smell, taste and touch, were all of him, as they kissed. They explored first, testing,   
  
marveling at the unexpected familiarity. As the kiss deepened, it turned tender, two people seeking   
  
understanding. Melissa felt his soul through that kiss, and gave hers to him willingly in return. Her heart   
  
swelled with completeness.   
  
Wendell was the first to break the kiss, gathering her more tightly into his arms and simply   
  
holding her close. He nuzzled into her hair, and his ragged breathing was tumultuous in her ear. Beneath   
  
the fresh fabric of his shirt, she could feel the pounding drumbeat of his heart. Melissa knew she sounded   
  
and felt the same to him. Slowly, the cool wind cooled her down, and Wendell's strong grip loosened a   
  
little.   
  
"I should not have done that," he whispered in her ear. He sounded on the verge of tears.  
  
Melissa ran her hands down his arms, smiling. "You didn't. I did, and I don't regret it at all." He   
  
was the sweetest man she had ever known, feeling guilty even when it wasn't his fault.   
  
His breath puffed into her hair as he briefly murmured something too soft for her to hear.   
  
"What?"   
  
Wendell didn't respond at first, his breath still ragged. Finally he said, "I have a garden much like   
  
this at my castle. It has many more flowers, though. It's much bigger, and much more beautiful. But it   
  
will be nothing now, ugly compared to this garden." He kissed her forehead. "When this is where I told   
  
you I love you."  
  
Her eyes flew open, and she felt her breathing stutter. "You haven't told me yet," she managed,   
  
trying to laugh.   
  
He pressed his lips to her forehead again, and she felt him say, "I love you, Melissa. I have since   
  
the moment I first looked in your eyes."   
  
She hugged him, one of his buttons pressing into her cheek. Suddenly, she was terrified -- of what   
  
he'd said, of repeating the words and giving them life by saying them aloud. She'd avoided the issue with   
  
herself, and was unprepared to face it with him yet.   
  
Wendell rubbed his cheek against her hair. "It's all right, you know, if you don't love me." His   
  
voice was raw. "I just thought you should know that you are loved. In case you need it."   
  
Melissa felt tears run down her cheeks, and she pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, trying   
  
to hold them back. "I do," she whispered, unable to say anything more. His chest hitched and he hugged   
  
her tightly to him again.   
  
They embraced in silence for a long time, while the wind and the birds and the flowers moved   
  
around them. And then, quietly, Wendell asked, "What do we do now?"   
  
Melissa shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears. "I really don't know," she admitted.   
  
The words he wanted to hear still lodged in her throat, and she struggled just to breathe past them.   
  
"I hope I haven't ruined things for us."  
  
"No," she answered quickly. "You haven't." *I have* she thought. How could one person be so   
  
selfless? "I just ... I hadn't planned on this."  
  
"Neither had I. This was, in fact, the last thing I thought would happen tonight."   
  
She struggled to drag the conversation somewhere safer. "You're a great kisser," she said,   
  
desperately hoping to lighten both their moods.   
  
Leaning back a little, she caught his wisp of a smile. "So are you. That was the second to last   
  
thing I thought would happen tonight. Whatever possessed me to bring you out here..." His eyes dimmed   
  
with sadness again.  
  
"I'll have to thank Aileen," Melissa whispered hurriedly. Wendell met her gaze, looking surprised,   
  
and she managed to grin at him. "It had to be something she did," she explained. "We women understand   
  
these things."  
  
He shook his head, but smiled a little in return. "I am afraid I will never understand 'those   
  
things.'"   
  
"I still wish I could help Aileen in some way," Melissa murmured. Aileen's problems seemed so   
  
much easier to deal with than her own. The wind tickled the hairs on her arms, and she frowned, realizing   
  
something. "The bed-makers, what have they built her?"  
  
"Built her? Beds, of course. Why?" Wendell asked, puzzled.  
  
"Regular beds? With legs and things?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well that's the problem, then!" Melissa looked around at the trees in the garden, smiling.   
  
"I don't understand what you mean."  
  
She gestured at the trees as if that would explain it. When he still didn't get it, she grabbed his   
  
hand and started dragging him back in, consumed by a plan. "She asked them the wrong thing," she said.   
  
"The Princess doesn't need a better bed, she needs a new type of bed. Come on, we have to wake Terry   
  
up."   
  
**********  
  
An hour later, the three admired Melissa's handiwork. A thick blanket had been strung between   
  
two of the stouter trees in the garden, and Sport was lying under it, dozing. Wendell had his arm around   
  
Melissa as she shivered in the night air, grinning triumphantly.   
  
"A hammock," Terry said, shaking her head. "I thought you were nuts when you woke me up for   
  
this, but it all makes sense now. There's nothing for the Princess to sleep on but the blanket--"  
  
"Which is soft, so she'll sleep through the night," Melissa interrupted excitedly. For the moment,   
  
the joy and pain of earlier was forgotten. "This is great. Wendell, you have to go get her. I really think   
  
this will work."   
  
He was staring at the hammock as though it didn't exist. "She won't just fall out?"  
  
She laughed and impulsively kissed him on the cheek, ignoring Terry's raised eyebrows. "Trust   
  
me," she whispered. He nodded, and with a glance to Terry, kissed Melissa chastely on the forehead.   
  
"I will be back shortly."  
  
Melissa watched him leave, as much to avoid Teresa's questions as to simply look at Wendell.   
  
"I see you two are getting along much better now."  
  
"You could say that."  
  
Teresa came up next to her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Missy. You   
  
know that."  
  
Melissa put her hand over Terry's and squeezed it. "Thank you," she said. She didn't want to tell   
  
Terry yet of how she'd ultimately failed. Those problems could wait for the morning.   
  
"And I'm proud of you."  
  
She groaned, stepping away from Teresa's hand, feeling the ugly weight of guilt. "People do this   
  
sort of thing all the time, why are you proud of me?"  
  
"Because," Terry's voice was calm, "I know what you've been through."  
  
"Is this about Rob? Because of what happened with him, what he did? He didn't do anything to   
  
me! The first time he hit me, I left, you know that. Why do you insist on thinking I'm so injured by him?"   
  
Melissa spun to face her, stabbing her finger at the other woman. "Just stop bringing him up." She felt   
  
reckless, irrational, and exhausted.  
  
"It doesn't matter what he did or didn't do to you physically," somehow Teresa remained serene.   
  
"I know you suffered just as much as that girl."   
  
"I suffered no where near what she did," Melissa seethed. The face she couldn't forget loomed   
  
large in her memory. "And if I had my way, he would. Twice as much. But it still has nothing to do with   
  
Wendell and I."  
  
"I think it has everything to do with you two. Have you told Wendell?"  
  
"No. God, Teresa, I'm an adult now, I can handle this."   
  
"I worry about you. I don't think you've ever really 'handled' what happened with Rob at all. Or   
  
what happened with the girl. I think you and Wendell have something more true than most of what we see   
  
and touch every day." She took a step closer, hands out to the side. Melissa's heart clenched, her mind   
  
struggled to push away the words. "I don't want whatever is lingering to ruin your chance at real happiness.   
  
I meant what I said about revenge."  
  
Melissa covered her face with her hands. Too much had happened today to deal with this now.   
  
Like the rest of her problems, it would wait until morning. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I'll tell him, if you   
  
think it's so important."  
  
"I do. Sometimes keeping a secret to protect someone you love is the worst thing you can do."  
  
Melissa couldn't meet Terry's eyes, so she kept her gaze on the hammock. "I don't think it will   
  
matter, honestly. But I'll tell him. Now will you leave me alone?"  
  
"The hammock was a really good idea, Missy. I'm impressed."   
  
Melissa understood the unspoken agreement to finally let the matter drop. "It just hit me out of the   
  
blue. They kept building her beds, and not ever trying to find something 'new.' I'm excited about this."  
  
"I should hope so," Aileen said, coming outside with Wendell. She was dressed in a simple white   
  
sleeping gown, clutching a cloak around her shoulders. Her long hair was only slightly mussed, though her   
  
soft eyes looked even darker than earlier. "His Highness was quite adamant that I had to get up. Not that I   
  
was sleeping that well anyway. What is that?" Her gaze had already picked out the hammock behind them.   
  
She walked past Melissa and touched the blanket tied firmly to the two trees.   
  
"We're hoping it's the answer to your problems." Melissa moved next to her. "It's called a   
  
hammock. You sleep on it."  
  
"Mm-hm. Wendell told me you knew about our family 'blessing.'" She pushed down on the   
  
blanket, testing it for strength. "You really think this will work?" Her voice was hushed and hopeful.  
  
Melissa chewed her lower lip, afraid to not be right. "I really do. It couldn't hurt to try."  
  
"I should say not. If you could just show me how to get in this thing ... "  
  
Several minutes later, after toppling out of the hammock twice, Princess Aileen lay safely in it, her   
  
hands tightly gripping the edges of the blanket.   
  
"The fear may keep me awake," she said, laughing shakily.   
  
Two guards came out of the darkness to stand watch over the princess, and Wendell pulled a   
  
blanket over her to keep her warm. "Sleep well, Aileen," he whispered, smiling at her. He returned to   
  
Melissa's side and took her hand. She felt instantly warmer.   
  
After calling Sport to them, the three left the princess and her guards outside, and Terry bid them   
  
another goodnight. Wendell walked Melissa to her door, their hands entwined. She wanted to pull away,   
  
to spare them hope and heartache, but couldn't leave the magic of his touch.   
  
"Do I need to tell you again how extraordinary you are?" he said when they'd stopped outside.   
  
Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "No, you don't." Melissa glanced at her door and back   
  
to Wendell, licking her lips. It reminded her of that night by the fire, her desire then amplified now. "We   
  
should go to sleep, I guess."  
  
"Yes." He looked to the door as well, then to her, and she saw the emotions in his eyes. Anxiety,   
  
sadness, and, remarkably, love. "You know, I meant what I said earlier. You look stunning."  
  
She smiled nervously, unprepared for the heartfelt compliment. Especially dressed as simply as   
  
she was. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
"We have a long day tomorrow," he said after a long moment of silence. "I hope to reach Tony's   
  
by tomorrow night. He needs to know."   
  
Melissa opened the door to her room and Sport darted inside. *Why can't you say it? Tell him.*   
  
she begged herself. "I understand," she murmured instead. "Good night, Wendell."   
  
"Good night, Melissa."   
  
She shut the door, and felt as if she'd left half herself outside.  
  
*********  
  
"You didn't sleep well either?"  
  
Melissa walked into the front hall, meeting Terry's gaze long enough to notice the dark circles   
  
under her eyes. "No," she admitted, sighing. "What about you? Are you all right?"  
  
Terry nodded, her normally smooth skin creased with lines. "I suppose I wasn't used to sleeping   
  
on such a soft bed all of a sudden. My muscles are stiff."  
  
"Me too. I had a major charlie horse this morning." She walked over and linked her arm through   
  
Terry's. "No more medieval dress?"  
  
The older woman laughed a little. "No, not for me. Or you either, I see."   
  
"I feel more comfortable in these jeans. They washed them, although I don't know how they got   
  
dry in time. Did you get all the other stuff when you woke up, too? The hairbrush and cloak and all that?"   
  
"Yes. It's very kind of the Princess."  
  
"Very kind. Speaking of which," Melissa pulled her arm away and looked around them, but the   
  
hall was empty. "I wonder how she slept."  
  
"Good question. Why don't you ask him?" Terry inclined her head and when Melissa turned, she   
  
saw Wendell striding down the hall towards them. Her heart sped up when he smiled at her.  
  
His smile faltered as got nearer, his eyes scanning their faces. "Are you well?" he asked.  
  
Melissa wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. "Yes. We're just sore."  
  
"I see."  
  
She looked down at Sport, unsure what to say. The cat yawned lazily at her feet.   
  
Terry placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "The beds were nice, though. We were   
  
wondering how Princess Aileen's was?"  
  
"I'm not sure," he said, his eyes never leaving Melissa's. "A servant came to my room this   
  
morning and told me to come here to meet you. I assume she will be joining us shortly."  
  
"As perceptive as always, Wendell." They all turned to see Aileen gliding into the room. Her   
  
silent steps made Melissa nervous. "Good morning all." Her soft eyes flickered over them, and the   
  
pleasant smile she was wearing dropped away. "I fear you did not sleep as well as I?"   
  
"The rooms were fine," Melissa said. She forced herself to relax, her arms hanging at her sides.   
  
"The real question is, how did you sleep?"  
  
The smile returned to Aileen's face, bright and cheerful. The Princess took a step closer, taking   
  
Melissa's hands in her own. "It was wonderful," she whispered. "You have saved me."  
  
"Oh...well..." she glanced at their hands, and then to the floor. "It wasn't that big of a deal."  
  
"No, it was. And I must repay you." She dropped Melissa's hands and turned slightly, her dress   
  
crinkling as she gestured at a silent guard. The man, dressed in crisp brown and green, strode forward and   
  
held out a small box, no more than two inches square. Aileen took it and he bowed sharply before   
  
returning to his post. Melissa watched the small ceremony expectantly. "In return for what you've done, I   
  
want to give you this." She held out the jewelry box.  
  
"What? No, really, I can't take that." Melissa frowned, pushing it back towards the other woman.   
  
She lowered her voice. "Please. In exchange for what you've already done for us."   
  
Aileen's eyes widened slightly, and a smile ghosted across her face. "You must have it. It will   
  
help you in your quest."  
  
"Our quest?" Wendell jerked, looking as though he would take the box himself, although he held   
  
back. "What is it?"  
  
"She must open it to find out."  
  
Melissa felt everyone staring at her, and she sighed, taking the box. It felt empty. "All right," she   
  
muttered, slowly lifting the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of rich brown satin, lay a perfectly round pea. For   
  
a long, quiet moment she stared at it, having no idea what to say.   
  
"It's the pea that my grandmother slept on," Aileen explained. "It is magical."  
  
"Oh." Melissa showed it to her companions, who looked equally perplexed.   
  
Aileen laughed, and produced a piece of paper from the sleeve of her dress. "Here, read this."  
  
"May I?" Wendell asked, reaching for the paper. Melissa nodded, and he took it, clearing his   
  
throat before he began to read.  
  
Hold this pea in your palm,  
  
Wait for it to grow warm.  
  
When it burns your tender flesh,  
  
That is when you pass the test.  
  
Beware the knowledge that you seek,  
  
True answers are not for the meek.  
  
Beware the words that you hear,  
  
True answers oft bring only fear.  
  
If you do as you're told,  
  
This pea will lead you --but not to gold.  
  
Not to money, nor to power,  
  
But to light in your darkest hour.  
  
They looked at each other uncertainly.  
  
"There is a glade about a half day's ride from here. Rumor has it a wise oracle lives there, and that   
  
this pea is the way to contact him. I thought you might use it to find out what happened to the mirror."  
  
"Aileen, we can't," Wendell protested. "This belongs to your family."  
  
"Yes, and I'm giving it to Melissa."  
  
Melissa shut the box, carefully. "Then I accept, but I will return it to you when we're done."  
  
The princess smiled, and her words were gentle. "It will disappear once it's used."  
  
"Then I certainly can't take it!"  
  
"You must. My family has tried many times to use it, and the pea has never grown warm. I   
  
believe it is your destiny to use it. You have saved my line, Melissa," she added firmly. "Please."  
  
She glanced to Wendell, and then to Terry, but they both shrugged, leaving the decision to her.   
  
Taking Aileen's family heirloom seemed impossible -- except they needed it so much. They had to find the   
  
mirror to get home. *Not that the Nine Kingdoms aren't wonderful. If complicated,* she thought. Melissa   
  
tried to search Wendell's eyes for an answer, but he wouldn't hold her gaze. It was the fact that he needed   
  
the mirror that decided it for her. "Thank you, your Highness. If it doesn't work for us either, then we'll   
  
return it."   
  
Wendell exhaled softly, looking relieved.   
  
Aileen smiled, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. "Wonderful. You must be off then. I   
  
have provided a carriage for you, with food enough for two days travel. It is not as ornate as what you're   
  
used to, Wendell, but I think perhaps that is best." He nodded eagerly. "You had breakfast already?" They   
  
all nodded. "Wonderful," she repeated, covering Melissa's hands with her own. "I hope we meet again,"   
  
she said softly. Melissa saw only sincerity in the other woman's beautiful features.   
  
"I hope so too," she said.  
  
Still smiling, Aileen hugged Wendell and Teresa, and then stepped away. "Safe journey."  
  
The four hurried out, Sport trotting alongside Melissa. When she paused at the door to look back,   
  
Princess Aileen was gone.  
  
**********  
  
The carriage rattled as they sped down the dirt road, passing travelers making their morning   
  
journeys. No one paid much attention to the green and brown carriage, other than to get out of its way.   
  
The sky was faintly overcast, but it was going to be another warm day. Teresa had her head leaning against   
  
the wall, her eyes closed, moving with each jerk and jump of the seats. Next to her, Wendell was staring   
  
out the window, watching the outskirts of Peatown rush by.   
  
Melissa ran her fingers over Sport's soft fur, and he nestled further into her lap, purring loudly.   
  
She smiled a little, until she saw the small box sitting next to her. It bounced with the rest of them, but   
  
seemed to project a protective aura that kept it from sliding anywhere. Cautiously, she picked it up,   
  
flipping open the lid again.   
  
The little pea sat, perfectly still, in it's bed in the box. They had been traveling for a couple of   
  
hours, everyone consumed with their own thoughts and concerns. She wanted to talk to Wendell, but knew   
  
it would be impossible with Terry there. Instead, she had concentrated on what to ask the oracle when they   
  
got near the glade  
  
"Any change?" Wendell whispered.  
  
She shook her head. "I haven't picked it up, though. I'm afraid to."  
  
He shrugged, looking back out the window.   
  
"When we get to the glade, I'll do it. Just not now."  
  
"I didn't say anything."  
  
"You didn't have to."  
  
One of Terry's eyes popped open. "Will you two please stop fussing?"   
  
Melissa had a sudden urge to stick her tongue out at them both, but closed the box and set it next   
  
to her instead. She knew Terry was right -- they'd been picking at each other off and on for the morning's   
  
trip. Little, stupid things that had passed by in the days before. She suspected it wasn't just the lack of   
  
sleep that was bothering all of them.  
  
"So have you heard of this oracle before?"  
  
Wendell shifted in his seat, glancing at her briefly. "No, actually."  
  
"Isn't that kind of unusual?"  
  
"I don't know everything that happens in my kingdom, Melissa."  
  
She imitated his earlier shrug.  
  
"It's a huge kingdom. We've been traveling for several days and have covered only a small part."  
  
"I didn't say anything," she said.  
  
"Honestly." Terry sat up, glaring at both of them. "What is it going to take to get you two to just   
  
leave well enough alone?"  
  
Wendell grimaced, looking guilty. "I apologize," he said.   
  
Melissa sat back in her bouncing seat, folding her arms across her chest. Terry kept glaring at her,   
  
until she broke under the pressure. "Me too," she muttered.  
  
Terry sighed heavily. "Honestly," she repeated.  
  
They continued on in silence after that, until the carriage began to slow, approaching the edge of a   
  
thick forest. Poking his head out the window, Wendell shouted something up to the driver and then pulled   
  
his head back in. "We're here," he announced.  
  
Melissa bit her tongue to hold back a retort, instead shaking Sport a little to wake him up. He   
  
meowed loudly, but moved anyway, settling into the corner with a dirty look.   
  
Several minutes later, the three of them were wandering through the forest, leaving Sport sleeping   
  
soundly in the carriage. The driver had eagerly agreed to stay with the carriage, and Melissa had noticed   
  
the way he distastefully eyed the forest. The trees were large and leafy, hazy light seeping through the   
  
branches. Birds of all kinds flitted about, chirping madly at the disturbance. The trio had to pick a   
  
haphazard path amongst the trunks, Wendell assuring them he could lead them out again.  
  
Melissa clutched the tiny pea in her hand, hardly feeling it at all, wondering if she could tell when   
  
it grew warm. It didn't help that they both kept asking her every few feet.  
  
"You're sure?" Terry pressed, pausing to look back at her.  
  
She rolled her eyes and shoved her palm out at the older woman. "Do you want to hold it?"  
  
"Maybe if we turned into the forest more," Wendell said, scanning the surroundings. "I think it's   
  
this way."  
  
"You think? What happened to 'I know exactly where I'm going'?" Melissa asked.  
  
Wendell ignored her, and she followed him without further comment. *Just let me know when   
  
this works* she prayed silently.  
  
Ten minutes later, sweaty and cranky, her palm started to sting. Concentrating on it, she realized   
  
that the pea was growing warm.   
  
"Oh God," she gasped, suddenly afraid. "You guys, it's warm."   
  
They both stopped and rushed back to her, everyone staring at her open palm. The pea sat there,   
  
the same calm green.   
  
"Are you sure?" Wendell said in a hushed voice.  
  
She darted a look at him, but he was oblivious. "Yes, I'm positive. Come on, let's keep moving."  
  
After another ten minutes of stops and starts as the pea wavered from cool to warm, they finally   
  
figured out the path and were following it as straight as they could. Without warning, the pea started to   
  
burn, and it felt like she was holding a hot coal.  
  
Stifling a scream, Melissa clenched her hand tightly shut to keep herself from dropping it, and the   
  
warmth spread out, dissipating for the moment. Wendell and Terry pressed on in front of her, unaware. A   
  
few short feet later, the heat intensified and her skin started to sizzle.   
  
She screamed then, and Wendell and Terry both spun around, their eyes wide.   
  
"It's burning," Melissa moaned, clenching her fisted hand at the wrist.   
  
Wendell rushed to her side, gesturing helplessly. "You have to hold on to it," he pleaded, his   
  
voice cracking.   
  
Melissa's eyes filled with tears as the pea grew more intensely hot. She expected it to burn a hole   
  
straight through her hand. "I can't," she pleaded.  
  
"You have to."  
  
Terry clenched her own fists and watched them. "Open your hand, Missy," she whispered.  
  
She tried, but the pain had seized her muscles. "I can't." Her whole hand felt on fire, the pain   
  
shooting up into her forearm, bending her elbow. Melissa dropped to one knee as the heat blossomed,   
  
engulfing her entire arm.   
  
Wendell knelt next to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Drop it," he ordered her. She looked into   
  
his eyes and was surprised to see they were wet.   
  
"No." She shook her head fiercely. "No! This is the test," she gasped.  
  
"Melissa drop it. It's not this important!"  
  
"No!" She moaned with the pain, holding onto consciousness.   
  
Something moved behind Wendell, and a low voice washed over them like rain, saying: "It is all   
  
right." And the pain was gone with the words.  
  
Melissa exhaled sharply, her body jerking forward into Wendell's arms. He held her close while   
  
the last tingling spasms of pain left her, her muscles relaxing. She felt herself crying, unable to stop the   
  
tears.   
  
Wendell murmured softly in her ear, unimportant words that soothed the fear. Finally, she   
  
stopped crying, and wiped her eyes dry on her sleeve. "Thank you," she mouthed. He smiled and they   
  
helped each other stand.  
  
When they turned, a shadow materialized in front of them, and all three inhaled sharply.   
  
Before them was a unicorn -- though it was nothing like the images Melissa had dreamed of as a   
  
child. This one was huge, and not entirely equine. It had the head and body of a horse, but its hind legs   
  
looked like they belonged to a deer, and its tail was that of a lion. Even more remarkable to her was that   
  
though its body was white, as she expected, its head was blood red, and it had sharp blue eyes. The horn   
  
that spiraled to a razor point was dark black, sucking light into it. The unicorn's beard hung almost to its   
  
knees, and it brushed it back and forth as it looked at them. Instead of the rounded curves of children's   
  
unicorns, this one's lines were angular and edgy. It looked like it would hurt to pet it.  
  
"Well met," it said. It's mellow voice made up for the sharpness of its looks.  
  
Melissa took a small step forward. "Hello."   
  
"You summoned me?"  
  
She blinked, and remembered the pea. "Yes, I guess I did. Who ... are you?"  
  
"I am Inesh. The oracle." He, the voice was distinctly male, brushed his beard across his knees   
  
again. "Who are you?"  
  
"Melissa. This is Teresa, and King Wendell."  
  
The blue eyes flickered over each of them, resting longer on Wendell. "King of the Fourth   
  
Kingdom. Welcome."  
  
Wendell cleared his throat, bowing respectfully. "Thank you, my lord."  
  
"Just Inesh," the unicorn said, his voice amused. His mouth didn't move, but the words felt like   
  
they were being spoken. Melissa peered around, wondering if this was like the 'Wizard of Oz.'  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
She whipped her head back to face him, her cheeks reddening. "Oh. No."  
  
Inesh seemed to smile, although she wasn't sure how she knew that.   
  
"Oracle," Wendell said gently, "we need your help."  
  
"I know," he said.   
  
"You know about the lost mirror then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How can we get it back?"  
  
The unicorn snorted, shaking his whole body. The three took a step back, startled by the   
  
movement. "That is not how I work, King Wendell. I know what is, and I will tell you what you most   
  
need to know. The answers are of my choosing, not yours."  
  
Wendell's shoulders drooped. "Surely the mirror is more important to us--"  
  
"I decide that. Your needs are not what you think. Any of you." He eyed them, and Melissa saw   
  
sadness deep within his gaze. "You must be sure you are prepared to hear the truth. Many have been   
  
destroyed by what I told them. That is why I am here, in this glade. I grew weary of hurting others."  
  
Silence draped across them, heavy with the unicorn's words.   
  
"Can I ask you a question?" Melissa asked.  
  
Inesh nodded his large head. "I may not answer it, though."  
  
"That's ok. Why is your horn black?"  
  
He looked surprised, tilting his head to the side. He was silent for a long time, and she thought   
  
that he wouldn't answer her. Finally, he spoke. "We are born with horns of white, and as we age, they turn   
  
to purest ivory. When we have lived long enough, dispensing the truth, seeing the pain, they turn black. I   
  
am very old." She felt the crushing weight of his sorrow, and looked away, struggling to breathe evenly.   
  
Wendell touched her arm. "We must know," he said.   
  
Melissa nodded, staring at her feet. "You're right." She forced herself to look into Inesh's eyes.   
  
*What horrors has he known?* she wondered. "Tell us."  
  
Inesh sighed, stamping his forefoot three times. "These truths I will tell. My words are light in   
  
the darkness of ignorance. This is what you must know:  
  
"Teresa. Soul Ravager wants the mirror to get at Wendell. Soul Ravager wants Wendell to get   
  
revenge. She is the woman Melissa's grandfather once loved." Melissa frowned and looked at Terry, in   
  
time to see her face go completely white.  
  
"Terry? What does he mean? What's--"  
  
"Melissa." The horn point swung to face her, and she felt pierced by it, her heart filled with dread.   
  
Whatever he was about to say, she was certain she didn't want to know. "To kill Soul Ravager, you must   
  
return home. Your answer lies in your past. Teresa knows who you really are."  
  
"What?" She choked on the disbelief, facing Terry. "What is he talking about?"  
  
"No," the older woman moaned. "Please, don't do this."  
  
Inesh stamped his foot and the ground shook. "You are not who you think, Melissa Dukavski.   
  
You are the grandchild of the man who loved the mermaid. You are from the Nine Kingdoms."  
  
********** 


	4. Part 4

Wendell stared, disbelieving, at the scene in front of him. The pea lay on the ground where   
  
Melissa had dropped it, glinting in the dull light.   
  
Visibly trembling, Melissa hugged her arms to her chest. "I'm from here? That's not possible.   
  
My parents are from the Ukraine -- I have a birth certificate!" She looked to Terry, her features pleading.   
  
The older woman had covered her face with her hands, and soft sobs shook her. "Terry?" Melissa   
  
whispered. Wendell had a feeling that the real trouble was about to start.   
  
"Did you lie to me Terry?"  
  
"Yes." It was more a sigh than a word.  
  
The quiet was threatening. Wendell put a hand on Melissa's shoulder, but she jerked away.  
  
"Tell me," she demanded.  
  
Teresa wiped her face and looked up. "I don't think here--"  
  
"Here is perfect. Tell me," she ground out. Wendell's heart ached for them both.  
  
Standing, Teresa faced them, her eyes and voice dull as she spoke. "What Inesh says is true. You   
  
are the daughter of Prince Andre and Princess Jelena. The Prince was the son of Prince Byron, who loved   
  
the Little Mermaid. You are his granddaughter, raised in the Tenth Kingdom."  
  
Through his shock and concern, realization settled over Wendell. It did explain her almost   
  
preternatural beauty and stately bearing. Byron's family, all but one believed to be dead he recalled, were   
  
famous for how they looked. *That must be what Teresa wanted to tell me before.* And if Teresa was   
  
from here as well, it explained how the mirror had been turned off, a problem that had subconsciously   
  
nagged at him for days.   
  
"Why wasn't I raised here?" Melissa asked into the silence. Her voice was too calm.   
  
"Because your family was being hunted." Teresa moved to touch her, but Melissa kept distance   
  
between them. "Missy, someone was killing them all. Your grandparents, your aunts and uncles and   
  
cousins. An older brother you never knew." Teresa pressed her lips together as the tears slipped from her   
  
eyes. "Freak storms that would hit with such a fury, and always where your family was. They came out of   
  
perfectly clear skies and thundered with magic. Your father decided to move you and your mother to safety   
  
after Dale died." She faltered, bringing her hands up to cover her face again.   
  
When it looked like she wasn't going to continue, Melissa yelled, "Finish the damn story, Teresa!"   
  
The older woman's chest hitched and she spoke through her hands, muffling her words. "Your   
  
father was crazy with grief after Dale died. He found out about the Traveling mirrors from a dwarven   
  
friend, and stole it with the help of my husband. At that time, I was your mother's young maidservant. We   
  
had both loved Dale very much, and I think Jonathan was as sick at his death as your father was. Jon and I   
  
went through the mirror and learned the ways of the 10th Kingdom for a year. When we came back, your   
  
mother was very pregnant with you." Teresa drew in a ragged breath and looked up again.   
  
"Prince Andre was adamant that you were to be born here but brought up elsewhere, in safety. So   
  
we stayed, and I helped Jelena through the birthing, and then returned to the 10th Kingdom to get   
  
everything ready. We made up the story that your parents had fled from Russia, because at the time it was   
  
easy to believe. Jon and I returned six months later, and everything appeared to have calmed down. Even   
  
the Prince. He had determined that the danger had passed, and you would stay in your home." She   
  
stopped, and began crying again. "And then Jonathan was killed."   
  
Wendell moved to Teresa, placing an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right," he whispered. He   
  
glanced at Melissa, and was shocked by the anger he saw.   
  
She clenched her hands into tight fists. "Finish the story," she ordered.  
  
"Melissa, please, let her --"  
  
"No, Wendell," she interrupted, glaring at him. "She picked this time by not telling me sooner. I   
  
just want to hear it before she starts lying to me again."  
  
"Melissa!"  
  
"Tell me!" she shouted.  
  
Teresa tensed under Wendell's arm, and he tightened his grip around her. "I can finish," she   
  
assured him quietly. She didn't leave the circle of his arm, though. "Your father was furious, and he   
  
ordered me to join them in their exile. I had nothing else here, so I gladly went. Because six months had   
  
passed, I returned for another month and settled everything, and then came to retrieve your family. But   
  
Andre was terrified that someone would follow us through the mirror, so he devised a plan. We would go   
  
through, and then he would take the mirror out into the Great Northern Sea and enter the mirror there,   
  
making sure it was closed and tossed overboard after. His most trusted servant agreed to help him, and so   
  
you, your mother, and I went through. He never followed. We didn't know what had happened, but your   
  
mother went to the rendezvous spot every day for almost a year, slowly wasting away until she could no   
  
longer make the journey. A week after that, she died."  
  
"Why did she die?"  
  
Teresa's lips twisted, and for the first time, Wendell saw a flash of anger. "Because she loved him,   
  
Missy. Without him, she saw no reason to live."  
  
"What about me?"  
  
Wendell wanted to go to Melissa, pull her into his arms and soothe away the pain he heard in her   
  
words, and he saw in Teresa's eyes that she felt the same. "Oh, Missy," she breathed. "She loved you just   
  
as much. She wasn't thinking straight, but she knew how much I loved you, and that I would take care of   
  
you. Jelena died of a broken heart."  
  
"So, what," Melissa threw her hands in the air. "My mother was co-dependent and irresponsible,   
  
is that what you're saying? I guess I'm better off without her then!"   
  
Teresa surged forward the few feet that separated them, and slapped Melissa across the cheek.   
  
"Don't you ever speak about your mother like that!"  
  
In the stinging silence, they all gaped at each other, and Wendell rubbed his eyes, not sure he   
  
really believed what he had seen and heard. Melissa pressed her fingers to her cheek.  
  
"I'm sorry, Missy," Teresa whispered. "I shouldn't have done that. I just ... your parents, like your   
  
grandparents, had true love. They were a part of each other, and without Andre, Jelena wasn't whole. Just   
  
before she died, she said to me, 'How can I live when the best part of me is already dead?'"   
  
Melissa grasped the back of her head with her hands. "This is ... I can't ... " she shook her head   
  
frantically. "You lied to me, Terry. You've always been lying to me."  
  
"No, Missy. Just about your past. Everything else I've ever told you has been the truth."  
  
"Please," she whispered, and even from where he stood, Wendell could feel the ragged ache in her   
  
voice. "Leave me alone. I can't look at you." She covered her eyes and turned away, her whole body   
  
moving with the force of her breaths.   
  
Teresa bit her lip, glancing at Wendell briefly. "Melissa, I'm sorry."  
  
"Go away."  
  
Without a sound, Teresa pushed past Wendell and fled into the forest. He moved to follow her   
  
when he heard Melissa call his name. Instantly he turned to her, pulling her limp body into his arms and   
  
hugging her tightly. Teresa, he was certain, would be all right. But he couldn't bear to leave Melissa alone   
  
with her pain, astonished as he was at her anger. Her hands clutched the smooth fabric of his shirt, and she   
  
hung onto him as though she'd fall if she let go.   
  
He faced Inesh, angry at the hurt Melissa was feeling as she cried in his arms. "You could have   
  
warned them," he hissed.  
  
The unicorn, who had not moved the entire time, shook his great head. "I did," he said sadly. He   
  
pointed his black horn at them. "You chose to ignore me."  
  
He wanted to growl at the Oracle, but stopped himself. He couldn't help Melissa if he was going   
  
to go doggy. "You knew what would happen, why didn't you say anything at all?"  
  
"I know only what is, King of the Fourth Kingdom. Not what will be." Inesh sounded frustrated.   
  
"I did warn you."  
  
Wendell huffed, pulling Melissa tighter to him. Underneath his feet, the ground vibrated and then   
  
stilled. He thought he had imagined it, until it happened again. "What was that?" he asked Inesh.  
  
The unicorn's eyes closed, and his body seemed to shimmer in the shadows. "An enemy comes   
  
this way." The pauses between vibrations grew shorter, and the shaking stronger. "He comes for you."   
  
Inesh's eyes opened, the blue depths bright with things unseen. "King of the Fourth Kingdom, this is what   
  
you must know: a giant comes this way, hungry for destruction. Within the heart of the Fire Tree is a   
  
poisonous vine. Put your dagger through the middle of one of its leaves and then stab the giant. That is the   
  
way you must destroy it. Hurry -- it will rip through my forest, looking for you!"  
  
"The fire tree? Where in the fairying forest is that?" Wendell gestured with one hand, Melissa   
  
still in his arms. She was looking around, her eyes dazed. The vibration was almost constant now, and   
  
leaves fluttered down from the trees.   
  
"Come with me, I will show you. You must hurry." Inesh stamped his forehoof, and started   
  
trotting further into the forest.   
  
"Wait-" Wendell sighed, releasing Melissa. "Stay here," he told her, staring into her stormy eyes.   
  
"Just stay here." She nodded slowly. Relieved, he let her go and started running after the Oracle.   
  
Branches had begun to creak with the weight of the vibration, and a deep, deep voice could be heard   
  
rumbling on the wind. He followed the pale white flashes he saw, hoping they were Inesh. Birds flew   
  
around them without direction, bouncing off of the trees and each other, filling the air with their tiny   
  
shrieks of terror. The forest was alive with chaos.   
  
The shaking grew stronger, and Wendell stumbled, tripping over a fallen branch. He fell to the   
  
ground, scraping his palms raw on an exposed root. Inesh's white form disappeared into the forest.   
  
"Inesh!" he called out, desperate to be heard. "Wait!" Pushing himself up, he followed, praying he hadn't   
  
lost the unicorn.  
  
Darting between two huge trees, he exploded into a clearing, where the Oracle had stopped.   
  
Inesh's white flanks heaved with the exertion, his red head marred with lather. "It is here," he said, no trace   
  
of breathlessness in his words.  
  
The horn pointed to a tree a short distance away. It was short for a tree, no taller than Wendell   
  
himself, its leaves a deep sunset-red. They way they lay on the branches, it looked like it was on fire.   
  
Presumably where it had gotten its name.  
  
The young king rushed to it, spotting a small hole at the base of the trunk. He slipped his dagger   
  
from his belt, and fell to his knees, bending down to peer in. In the shadows, he couldn't tell where the   
  
leaves were, so he reached his hand in to pull one out.  
  
"No!" Inesh shouted, whinnying loudly. Wendell jerked his hand out quickly, startled by the   
  
sudden noise. "You must not touch the leaves. It will kill you if you touch it. Stab the dagger -- quickly."   
  
The ground rolled under their feet, emphasizing his words. "The giant comes!"  
  
Wendell thrust his dagger into the hole, feeling the point slice through the faint resistance. He had   
  
no idea if he'd hit the right spot, and when he brought the weapon back out, it looked dry. "How will I   
  
know if I hit it?" he asked.  
  
"Stab the giant. The poison cannot be seen, that is why it is so dangerous."  
  
Groaning, Wendell forced himself to his feet, holding the knife carefully away from him. "That's   
  
bloody perfect," he mumbled, running after Inesh as the unicorn took off without a word.   
  
Branches were falling to the ground now, and it was getting harder to stand, much less run. The   
  
deep voice was still speaking, and over the cacophony of birdcalls, Wendell made out the words: "Little   
  
King! Where are you hiding? My lady wishes to speak with you!" He swallowed down his fear and ran   
  
faster.  
  
Reaching Melissa again, he found her hugging a tree, looking around wildly. Her gaze was sharp   
  
again, and panicked. "What's going on?" she shouted when he came near.   
  
Keeping the dagger as far from her as possible, he took her outstretched hand and began leading   
  
her out of the forest. Inesh watched them for a moment, then disappeared the other way. "It's a giant!"   
  
Wendell had to shout over the noise now, even though they were right next to each other. The vibration   
  
had become a constant, and his bones felt like they would crack from the pressure. Birds fell out of the sky   
  
and were quickly covered with leaves and twigs. A branch snapped and plummeted from the top of a tall   
  
tree, narrowly missing him.   
  
And suddenly, it went absolutely silent.  
  
The vibration had stopped without warning, and the birds, apparently as surprised as Wendell, had   
  
quieted. A few leaves fell to the ground, and a last branch cracked, the noise like lightning in the stillness.   
  
It tumbled to the ground, crashing into a bed of leaves, sending up one last flurry of chirps before silence   
  
settled again.  
  
"What happened?" Melissa whispered.  
  
In answer, there was a long, low roar, a crash, and then a woman's terrible scream.   
  
"TERRY!" As if called to action, the noise and clamor sprang up again, and Melissa ran for the   
  
edge of the forest, Wendell following her closely.   
  
They came bursting out of the tree line into shade, and saw their carriage lying crumpled, a   
  
hundred feet from where it had been. To the side Wendell first saw toes, and craned his head backwards to   
  
see the entirety of the giant. It was enormous, taller than Aileen's castle, with feet as large across as the   
  
river that separated his kingdom from the trolls'.   
  
"Suck an elf," he breathed.  
  
White-faced, Melissa was staring at the carriage, breathing fast. "Wh-what are we going to do?"  
  
Shifting the dagger in his sweaty grip, Wendell brought it around to show Melissa. Compared to   
  
the giant, it's slim blade looked as effective as a flower stem. "Inesh showed me the way." He was   
  
surprised at how confident he sounded. Above them the giant laughed, and they both spread out their arms   
  
to keep from falling.   
  
"There you are little king! Have you come to play?" He lowered his big face a little, and Wendell   
  
was surprised to see that he wasn't ugly. "But we have no time for games. My lady wants you, little man."   
  
His powerful breath blew their hair and clothes.   
  
Wendell searched frantically for a place to hit him, but the giant was wearing boots as thick as a   
  
wall, and everything else was too out of reach. He would have to wait to be grabbed. "Let me handle this,"   
  
he told Melissa hurriedly. "And whatever you do, let him get me first."   
  
She was still staring at the carriage, but she nodded quickly.  
  
Summoning courage, Wendell waved his hand at the giant. "Good!" he shouted as loud as could.   
  
"I want to meet her, too! If she is so weak that she must send others to do her work, then she doesn't   
  
frighten me!"  
  
The giant laughed a long time at that. "She should!" he answered simply. But he brought his hand   
  
down, the fingers as thick as the trees that stood behind them.   
  
Licking his lips, Wendell waited until the hand was almost around him, and he gripped the handle   
  
of his dagger with both hands, holding it out in front of him, so it would pierce the soft flesh between the   
  
thumb and first finger.  
  
When the fingers closed, he threw himself forward, and felt the knife embed itself up to the hilt.   
  
The giant grunted and shook him roughly. He felt his head snap back, and blackness crept in at the edges   
  
of sight. "What are you doing?" the giant asked. Wendell's stomach lurched as the ground rushed away,   
  
and he was suddenly much too high in the air, eye-level with his captor. He waited for some sign that the   
  
poison had worked, but the giant merely smiled and bent down again, Wendell'sbreakfast rising into his   
  
throat. "I will play with the woman, though," the giant announced.   
  
Melissa didn't respond, and when Wendell shifted enough to turn around, he saw the giant's hand   
  
close around her, as well. They were both rushed back into the air and turned to face each other. "You will   
  
make a good doll for my child," he told her. "And perhaps she can have a little king when my lady is   
  
finished."  
  
Fear finally registered, and Wendell stared across the empty expanse that separated him from   
  
Melissa. He had failed, and now the giant had her, and she would die. Even his own death didn't matter as   
  
much. He twisted the knife furiously, and although the giant grunted and shook him again, nothing else   
  
happened. Wendell forced back unconsciousness and looked at Melissa once more. Their eyes met, and he   
  
shouted his love to her, but he couldn't tell if she'd heard.   
  
"My daughter would love -" The giant stopped talking abruptly, and when Wendell looked up, he   
  
saw his mouth hanging open. The huge man grunted once, and without warning the body started to topple   
  
backward.  
  
"Hold on!" Wendell shouted, grabbing onto one of the thick fingers. They sped towards the   
  
ground, and faster than he dreamt possible, the body had crashed. The impact jarred Wendell's grip loose,   
  
but he fell into the giant's palm and was buffeted around in the fingers, which hadn't moved. The noise was   
  
overpowering and for a long time after he had stopped moving, he heard rumbling in his mind.   
  
Some time later, his whole body bruised and aching, Wendell pulled his dagger out of the giant's   
  
palm and climbed out of his hand. He scanned the body, but there was no sign of movement. The poison   
  
had worked.   
  
"Melissa?" he called out, struggling to breathe deeply. His ribs were aching, but it was nothing   
  
compared to the fear he felt. Scrambling down the arm and across the chest, Wendell made his way to the   
  
giant's other hand, in time to see Melissa pulling herself out. She looked as sore and frightened as he felt.   
  
Her hair was tangled in a mass, and tears had dried on her cheeks, which were red and raw. But seeing her   
  
alive, she looked more beautiful to him then than ever before.  
  
He crawled up the arm to her, and hugged her close, although they both grimaced at each other's   
  
touch. "Are you ok?" he asked, kissing her forehead.  
  
"I think so." She felt her arm and winced. "Just very, very sore." She looked around, and he saw   
  
a memory in her eyes. "Oh God. Terry, where is Terry?"   
  
"I don't know." He surveyed the area as well, but could only see the carriage. He prayed that she   
  
wasn't inside. "Come on, let's go look for her, I'm sure she's fine."  
  
"Did you hear her scream?"  
  
"Melissa." He cupped his hand under her chin. "Let's look for her first."   
  
She nodded, and they slipped off of the hand together, helping each other down. Wendell wanted   
  
to search the forest first, they both called Teresa's name repeatedly, but he felt drawn to the mangled   
  
carriage. Unable to avoid it, they headed straight for it, and stopped several feet away.  
  
"Terry?" Melissa called, her voice tremulous.   
  
There was no answer.  
  
"Let me look," Wendell said, holding her back. She protested, but he pushed her away and she fell   
  
silent. He didn't really want to be the first, but he couldn't let Melissa do it.  
  
Reluctantly, he put one hand on the door and took a deep breath. "Teresa?" he asked. His heart   
  
was exploding in his chest. Peering into the shadowy interior, he didn't see anything at first, and then, he   
  
caught a faint paleness in the dark. He covered his mouth with his hand and forced down the knot of grief   
  
that choked him. "Teresa," he said again, carefully making his way into the carriage. Splintered wood   
  
jutted out everywhere, the seats and roof torn by it. Teresa was tucked into a corner, her gentle eyes closed.  
  
Wendell settled himself next to her and felt the carriage shift under his weight. When it had   
  
stopped moving, he felt for a pulse, listened for breath, looked for life. And found none.   
  
"She's dead, isn't she?"  
  
He turned, surprised by the words. Melissa was looking through the window at them, her eyes   
  
dark.   
  
Wendell couldn't speak, so he nodded.   
  
Pressing her lips together until they disappeared, Melissa nodded in return, and her eyes caressed   
  
Teresa's still form. The silence crept into the carriage, swathing them in their grief.   
  
"Melissa," Wendell whispered, helpless to do anything else. "I am sorry."  
  
She shrugged carelessly. "It's not your fault, Wendell. It was that bitch," she spit the word out   
  
and then calmed again. "The Soul Ravager. It wasn't you."  
  
He climbed out of the carriage, peering up into the afternoon sky. It was a long walk to the nearest   
  
castle. He wasn't sure which way to go next.   
  
"Was Sport in there?"  
  
Wendell watched her, shaking his head. "No, he wasn't." She seemed to stagger with relief and he   
  
thought she would finally crack, before she pulled herself back together. He could only stand there as she   
  
turned to the forest and began calling for the cat. Her reaction worried him, but he had no idea how to help   
  
her, so he started calling Sport's name as well.  
  
The orange tabby ran from the forest's safety, and leapt into Melissa's open arms. Behind him   
  
came the driver, leading the four carriage horses. "Y-your High-highness." The man was still shaking.   
  
"Driver." He hadn't even asked the man's name, he realized. He did so, and was told 'Joseph.'   
  
Nodding, Wendell ordered him to take Teresa's body back to Aileen's castle, where it was to be stored until   
  
she could have a proper burial in her true home. They pulled the body as gently as they could out of the   
  
carriage, and settled it over one of the horses. It was an unpleasant sight, her arms dangling off one side,   
  
her legs off the other, and knowing it was Teresa only made it worse. Joseph hurried off at Wendell's   
  
command, leaving the other two horses behind.   
  
Wendell watched them go, unable to look away. Gentle Teresa, who had traveled so silently and   
  
well, who he had come to care deeply for, was gone. The horses' departure made it seem all the more final.   
  
He wiped at the corners of his eyes. And now they had to leave Teresa like that, to try and find the woman   
  
who had killed her before anyone else was hurt.   
  
"Melissa, we need to go," he said, trying to coax her onto the horse. She wouldn't let go of Sport   
  
long enough to get on the horse. "Please, we don't have time to walk to Antony's."   
  
"I don't want to lose him."   
  
He looked away, feeling her pain as his own. "I will hold him while you mount, and then you can   
  
have him back."  
  
"He might jump from your arms."  
  
"I won't let him, Melissa. I swear it. Please?"  
  
She studied Wendell, apparently weighing his worthiness, before thrusting Sport into his arms. He   
  
grasped the wriggling cat tightly, and willingly gave him up when she was situated.   
  
Mounting his own horse, Wendell made one last survey of the area, appalled at the destruction.   
  
The giant's body stretched out before them, to the side was the ruined carriage, and behind was the forest,   
  
it's leaves and branches and birds scattered all over the ground. Wendell owed this 'Soul Ravager' much.   
  
He glanced at Melissa, but she was whispering her secrets to Sport, oblivious to anything else.   
  
With a sigh, Wendell spurred his horse onward, making sure she followed after him. They still   
  
had a long way to go.  
  
**********  
  
  
  
Grojavek wasn't sure what all that noise had been, but he was glad that it was over. The shaking   
  
had left him sprawled on the ground, and he picked himself up carefully. Double-checking the mirror for   
  
any cracks and finding none, he stuck his tongue out at his reflection.   
  
At least his nose had returned to its normal size. He squeezed it lovingly, pleased to find it hadn't   
  
been hurt. When he was a great Imp King, they would paint many portraits of his nose and he needed a   
  
good one. One as good as Muklavuk's had been. Now *that* was a nose.   
  
In the darker parts of his mind, Muklavuk shoved him forward, and he picked up the mirror and   
  
continued tottering on. He'd run out of dust, and now had to struggle with a full-length mirror across the   
  
countryside. If he hadn't been so excited about Muklavuk's plan, he'd drop the mirror now and run home to   
  
safety. Instead, Groj giggled with excitement.   
  
Grojavek the Imp King. It sounded so good in his head.   
  
He continued walking, balancing the mirror unsteadily as he went. Although he walked for a long   
  
time, he never seemed to get very far. Not that it mattered much -- he was too busy imagining his new Imp   
  
Court. There would be lots of servants and food, and he'd build his mother her own house, very far away.   
  
And he'd have a whole room dedicated to all the awards and medals he was going to receive. And they   
  
would have a day just for him. And he'd have to add something to his name. Grojavek the Great. King   
  
Grojavek the Great. King Grojavek the Most Great and Brave. His head nearly split with a smile.   
  
Underneath the rubbery soles of his feet, the ground shivered again. Groj's eyes widened and he   
  
looked about for somewhere to hide the mirror. Whatever had been shaking earlier was back, and it felt   
  
like it was coming his way. From the intense pounding, it felt like there was more than one, too.  
  
He squealed as all of Muklavuk's courage washed away with the fear. He didn't want to die! The   
  
mirror was too heavy to run with, and too fragile to just throw away. It was going to get him killed!  
  
"What is that?"  
  
Grojavek stopped where he was at the words, trying to figure out who'd said them. "What?" he   
  
squeaked.  
  
"Melissa, look!" The pounding grew harder, and when Groj spun to face his attacker, he nearly   
  
passed out at the horse bearing down on him. "It's the mirror!" he heard the male voice shout.  
  
The horse was shouting at him?  
  
It whinnied as it stopped just in front of him, and someone dismounted. Grojavek pushed the   
  
mirror between them, cowering behind it like it was a shield. Then the man yanked it from his grasp, and   
  
Groj covered himself with his long, thin arms. "Don't hurt me!" he pleaded.   
  
"Who are you, imp?" It was the man again, and he sounded angry.  
  
"Don't hurt me!" Groj begged again.  
  
The shadow of either the man or the mirror disappeared, and afternoon sunlight crept back over   
  
Groj's skin. There were soft words he couldn't make out, and the heavy breathing of the horse near his ear.   
  
He wanted to peek through his arms and see what was happening, but he was too frightened. Muklavuk   
  
sulked in the back of his thoughts.  
  
Suddenly, something was nudging him in the side. "How did you get the mirror?" It was the man   
  
again. Chancing a look, Groj shifted his arms and peered up into the face of a human male. A very   
  
familiar looking human male, he realized.   
  
"Don't hurt me," he whimpered.  
  
The man sighed, nudging him again with his foot. "Answer my question, imp. How did you get   
  
the mirror?"  
  
Groj sank further into himself. Why was this man so familiar to him? He hated humans! Like   
  
those two women. And that orange cat! Only humans would have pets like that. But, still, he couldn't say   
  
where he'd gotten it, or who he was taking the mirror to. She'd kill him!   
  
Not like she wasn't going to kill him anyway, Muklavuk added softly.  
  
And then there was a dagger pointing right between Groj's eyes. "Tell me," the man hissed, "or I'll   
  
rip it out of you."   
  
Grojavek eeped and tried to melt into the ground. "I-I...I..." He squinted, and the man's face sunk   
  
in. "King Wendell!" he screeched, before fainting dead away.  
  
**********  
  
Wendell frowned and dug his toe into the little green body, but the imp had apparently fainted.   
  
"Odd," he murmured. "But fortunate." He turned and grabbed his horse's reins, slicing off a length and   
  
quickly tying the imp up. It was suspicious finding him out here with the mirror like this and they couldn't   
  
afford to let him get away. Although the idea of this small creature smuggling the mirror out of his castle   
  
was ridiculous, Wendell couldn't ignore the fact that he did have it now. Why would an imp steal a huge   
  
mirror from the three pigs, unless he knew what it was? And how would an imp know what a traveling   
  
mirror looked like? The situation left too many questions to let the imp go. Once the little green man was   
  
secured, Wendell straightened, glancing to Melissa.   
  
She was staring blankly at the countryside, her hands clenching Sport to her chest. Wendell had   
  
hoped finding the mirror would spur her awake, but she still seemed oblivious to anything he said or did.   
  
*Looks like I'll have to figure this out myself* he thought, picking up the imp. He shook the creature   
  
gently, remembering what it felt like earlier in the giant's hands.   
  
The impossibly large eyes opened, blinked, and the imp fainted again.  
  
Sighing, Wendell attached the imp to his saddle. Obviously they'd have to wait to get to Tony's   
  
castle, where the imp could be made less frightened, to find out what was going on. The mirror glinted in   
  
the sunlight, looking large and immovable. "What do you think we should do with the mirror?" Wendell   
  
asked aloud, not expecting an answer.  
  
"Destroy it."  
  
He gaped, and spun to face Melissa. She glared past him at the mirror, her whole body tense with   
  
hate. "What?" he asked.  
  
"It's an evil thing. It should be destroyed."  
  
"I can't destroy the mirror, Melissa. I won't!" Wendell shifted his body in between her and the   
  
mirror. "It's not evil."  
  
"It killed Terry."  
  
He bit hard on his lower lip to keep from arguing with her. *She is in a lot of pain* he told   
  
himself. *Just let it be.* But this meant he'd definitely have to keep the mirror on his horse.  
  
Nearly half an hour later he'd worked out a precarious situation. Both the imp and the mirror had   
  
been strapped to the front of his saddle, and he was nearly out of rein leather. He had wanted to put the imp   
  
on Melissa's horse, but Sport had gone into a frenzy and sliced a long, shallow cut down the imp's chest that   
  
looked like it was meant to kill. The imp was awake now, but too terrified to even attempt to speak.   
  
*At least we're moving,* Wendell sighed.   
  
The ride to Antony's castle was slow and silent, and they passed small villages and smaller farms   
  
without stopping. Wendell wasn't hungry, and he was fairly certain getting Melissa to eat would be   
  
impossible anyway. Later that evening, he felt it a blessing to finally see the spires of the castle reflected in   
  
the moonlight. The moon was almost three-quarters full now, and difficult to look at in the dark of night.   
  
They made their way to the castle bathed in the light, and by the time they'd arrived at the gates,   
  
there was a small regiment to meet them. The soldiers bowed and cheered and laughed as they led the two   
  
horses into the courtyard, and Wendell heard the whispers dart around him.  
  
"They have the mirror!"  
  
"They look tired."  
  
"Look at that one -- I don't know her."  
  
"Aye, but she's beautiful! Sir Tony will like her."  
  
There were a few snickers after that, but Wendell's sharp glare shut the men up. "Where is   
  
Antony?" he asked loudly. Knowing that these men were looking at Melissa like that made the hairs on his   
  
arms stand up.   
  
"Wendell!" There was a familiar voice from the back of the crowd and men started moving aside.   
  
"Wendell, are you all right?" Antony pushed forward to his horse, his eyes worried. He glanced at   
  
Melissa, and for an instant the young king thought about snarling at him. "Who's that?" Antony asked, his   
  
smooth voice low.   
  
"That's not your concern," Wendell announced. "I have found the mirror."  
  
"It was missing?"   
  
"Yes. Someone stole it. This imp," Wendell prodded the terrified creature with his finger, "had it.   
  
I don't know if it was him or someone else, but we got it back."  
  
"That's great, Wendell!" Antony slapped him heartily on the boot. "Come on, we saw you   
  
coming down the road and have some food and baths prepared for --"  
  
"Um, Antony." Wendell leaned forward and whispered in his friend's ear. "A lot has happened to   
  
both of us. We need some privacy right now. There's much more to this than you know."  
  
The man raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth from Melissa to Wendell. "Ooooohhhhhhh,"   
  
he breathed, winking. "You sly dog." Wendell rolled his eyes, spurring his horse through the crowd.   
  
There was a tussle, and one of the men leapt forward to lead Melissa's horse. Wendell growled   
  
under his breath, and when they had dismounted in front of the stables, quickly took her arm in his, making   
  
sure he gave the eager young soldier a meaningful look. The man reddened and slunk off, horses   
  
following. Antony had unstrapped the mirror, and carried it into the castle, while someone else had the imp   
  
tucked under his arm. The small group made their way to Antony's room, and the mirror and creature were   
  
set on the floor, everyone but Wendell and Melissa leaving.   
  
The little imp had started crying, and his sniffling was the only sound for a long time. Wendell   
  
had his arm wrapped firmly around Melissa's shoulders while she stared quietly at Sport. The orange tabby   
  
couldn't take his eyes off of the imp, but he was silent, too.  
  
Antony threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He'd managed to put on a few more   
  
pounds since Wendell had last seen him, and his chubby face was wrinkled with a smile. "It's good to see   
  
you!" he boomed. "Although you look pretty beat up. You ok?"  
  
"We had a problem with a giant."  
  
"A giant? Well, I'll assume you won, since you're alive." He didn't seem to notice Wendell   
  
wincing. "And the mirror, too, I'm glad you found it. You haven't heard anything from Virginia, have   
  
you?" The smile disappeared, replaced with fatherly concern.   
  
"No, nothing at all. I don't believe she and Wolf have come through. We were apparently very   
  
close to the mirror most of the time, and Wolf could easily have watched over her."  
  
He nodded, looking appeased. "Still, I think I'll make a visit over tomorrow to be sure. Besides,   
  
it'd be nice to see my daughter." His smile returned, softer this time, and Wendell couldn't help but smile in   
  
response. He was so changed from what had happened. All of them were.   
  
"So," Antony said, clearing his throat. "Who's this?"  
  
Wendell's arm tightened slightly, but Melissa seemed not to notice she was being spoken to. "This   
  
is Melissa," he supplied for her. "She's also from your world. Los Angeles, I believe she said."   
  
"Right, right! West coaster. I should've known, no one in New York would have a tan like that.   
  
Nice to meet you, Melissa." He held out his hand, but she simply stared at it. "Ok," he said, glancing at   
  
Wendell. "So what brings you to the Nine Kingdoms?"  
  
When it was obvious she wouldn't answer, Wendell let her go and pulled Antony to the other side   
  
of the room before he could get angry. It took him several minutes, but he explained what had happened   
  
with the mirror, Inesh, the Oracle's news, and the tragedy with Teresa. He was relieved by Antony's quick   
  
sympathy.   
  
"Well you have to go after this Soul Ravager," he said darkly. "You can leave Melissa here with   
  
me if you want."   
  
"I think I might," Wendell sighed. "She's just too--"  
  
"I'm going." Both men jumped, startled by her sudden appearance behind them. "I'm going to kill   
  
the woman that did this."  
  
"Melissa, I'm not sure that's a good idea."  
  
She turned those startling eyes on him, and Wendell felt pierced by the despair he saw. "I'm   
  
going, Wendell. Sport will stay here, but I'm going. We need to get some sleep. Where's my room?" She   
  
looked past him to Antony, and the older man could only shrug.  
  
"I could have someone show you," he offered.   
  
She nodded once, sharply. "Good. And," she added, glancing at the imp, "put him in my room as   
  
well. Sport will watch him." The cat's eyes narrowed to yellow slits, and he looked frighteningly eager.   
  
Antony rang the bell pull without a word. Wendell wasn't sure whether to kiss Melissa goodbye,   
  
but she and the imp were whisked away before he could decide.  
  
"She's a little ... touchy, isn't she?" Antony asked.  
  
"She's not usually like that."  
  
"Melissa, huh? She reminds me of someone, but I can't remember who. An elf, maybe?"  
  
Wendell sighed, staring at the door she'd just exited through. "She's an actress in your world.   
  
Quite famous from what I gathered. Teresa kept calling her by some name, Missy, I think."  
  
"Missy?" Antony inhaled deeply. "Missy Duke? Wendell, oh my God! I can't believe I didn't   
  
recognize her! They're right, they always look different in person. Wendell, do you know who that is?"   
  
The king sighed again. "The woman I'm in love with," he murmured.  
  
"I should get her autograph! You could make a fortune selling her stuff!" He snapped his fingers   
  
near Wendell's ear. "E-bay. I could make a killing on E-bay."  
  
"What?" The younger man turned, confused. "Antony, what are you talking about?"  
  
Antony gestured at the door. "All I'm saying is that I could make a lot of money with her help.   
  
You know, for Virginia."  
  
"Really, Antony, sometimes you are just incredible. At least wait until she's stopped grieving, will   
  
you?"  
  
He hung his head, his dark hair shifting to highlight his bald spot. "You're right. I'm sorry. You   
  
don't know how exciting this is, though. Virginia would have a fit to get to meet her, she's seen all her   
  
movies. We went to LA once to go to Disneyland, and we thought we saw her there. Virginia would've   
  
followed her all around Disneyland, but we lost her in the crowd. She blamed me because I was 'walking   
  
too slow.' Well excuse me if I don't want to run around in 100-degree weather, you know? It wasn't her   
  
anyway, I kept trying to tell her that. You would never actually see someone that famous. Someone like   
  
Missy Duke would just rent Disneyland for the day, none of this mingling with the commoners stuff."  
  
"Antony, please."  
  
"Right. Sorry." He ran a hand over his hair, covering the bald spot again. "So what are you going   
  
to do about Soul Ravager?"  
  
"Inesh told Melissa she had to return home. And Soul Ravager is after me, so we're both going."  
  
"I can send people with you."  
  
"No. We won't need them."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Inesh would have told us. I think Melissa is the key to this. Soul Ravager has killed many   
  
people, sending an army after her won't work."  
  
Antony shook his head. "How does that follow?"  
  
"I have a feeling."  
  
"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."  
  
"Antony." Wendell used his best royal persona, feeling somehow guilty for it. "No one goes but   
  
Melissa and I. That's final."  
  
"You know, I really don't understand you sometimes. At least let me come with you, Wendell.   
  
You're king now, you can't go all by yourself."  
  
Wendell exhaled slowly. Being a king was much more difficult than he had ever dreamed. "After   
  
you check on Wolf and Virginia, you can come after us. We won't need you, and if you get killed, I swear I   
  
won't feel guilty about it." That was a lie, but it couldn't hurt to say it. "But I can't stop you."  
  
Antony smiled, putting a large hand on his shoulder. "Well you could certainly try. It's for the   
  
best Wendell, trust me. I don't want you to be killed, either." He squeezed Wendell's shoulder, and then   
  
turned away, embarrassed. "So where is Melissa's kingdom? Must have been a hell of a shock, finding out   
  
she came from here like that."  
  
"Mm," he agreed. "It's at the border where the Eight Kingdom meets the Fourth Kingdom.   
  
Byron's line controls the fishing villages in the southern fjords. He's technically a part of the Ice Queen's   
  
kingdom, but they've always been too far away to fall under her evil control. They've always considered   
  
themselves subjects of the Whites, even though they're technically not."  
  
"Mermaids, huh? I'll have to check them out some day. It's a long ride from here, though. Listen,   
  
I have a magic potion you can use for your horses. It makes them twice as fast and tireless, so you'll arrive   
  
as soon as possible."  
  
"Where did you get a potion like that?"  
  
"Oh, I built a little something for the elves. They were so grateful, they gave me these potions as   
  
payment. It wasn't our original deal," Antony winked, "but I couldn't refuse them. They gave me two, so I   
  
can use the other one when I follow you. Now, let's get you to your room. You have a long journey   
  
ahead."  
  
"Antony." Wendell stopped him before he called one of his servants. "Thank you for your help."  
  
"Hey, it's nothing. You're the king, right?" He tugged the bell pull, and a young girl led Wendell   
  
down the short hallway to his guestroom. He asked her where Melissa was, and she pointed at the door   
  
next to his. Thanking her, he gave her a gold Wendell from a small amount Aileen had given him, and she   
  
nearly skipped away.   
  
Wendell edged up to Melissa's door, staring at it. He raised his hand to knock, but was stopped by   
  
the sounds of sobbing he could barely hear. So far as he knew, it was the first time she'd cried since Teresa   
  
had been killed. Would she continue if he came in? He thought it more likely she would stop, and make   
  
more of an effort to hold her feelings back until Soul Ravager was dead. That, he knew, would be infinitely   
  
worse. Weary, he returned to his own room, not falling asleep until much later with the sounds of Melissa's   
  
grief echoing in his mind.  
  
**********  
  
Something whispered in the shadowed corner of Melissa's room.  
  
She woke slowly, uncurling herself from where she'd fallen asleep at the foot of the bed. The   
  
words stopped abruptly with her movement. When she blinked and peered into the darkness, she could   
  
make out a small, dark lump. Sport slept a few feet away from it, although he stirred when she called his   
  
name. The big cat stretched lazily, muscles tensing and relaxing under his smooth fur. Morning light   
  
leaked underneath thick, velvet drapes, which were barely moving with the breeze. It was chilly in the   
  
room, but not uncomfortably so.   
  
The skin around Melissa's eyes was tight, and she massaged her temples to try and soothe the pain.   
  
But this headache had been present since she'd first seen Terry's body lying pale and still in the carriage.   
  
*God, Terry* she moaned, covering her face again. She thought she'd cried all her pain away last night, but   
  
it hurt just as fiercely this morning. Her arms and legs felt like deadweights, and her heart couldn't seem to   
  
beat steadily. Moving towards the small bowl a servant had provided last night, she splashed cold water on   
  
her face.   
  
"Sport," Melissa called, her voice rough. The big cat hadn't left the corner, instead he was   
  
hunkered down and staring intently at the mysterious form. "What are you looking at?" she wondered,   
  
making her way cautiously towards him. Yesterday was fuzzy, and when she saw the little green creature   
  
shaking in the corner, it took her a moment to recall him. The mirror. The memory exploded in her   
  
thoughts, momentarily lightening her grief.   
  
She picked the small imp up and shook him softly. "I remember you. You're the one who got us   
  
into this. You were in my kitchen!"  
  
His tiny mouth disappeared in terror. "Don't hurt me!" he squealed. His voice reminded her of the   
  
Chipmunks, but much higher and more irritating.  
  
"If you answer my questions, I won't hurt you," she said, not quite promising it to herself. He   
  
must've heard the hesitation on her part, because his wide eyes narrowed. "You don't have much choice,"   
  
she hissed.  
  
The imp grumbled, and then shrieked when she shook him again. "Stop doing that!" he pouted.   
  
"That hurts."  
  
"Then answer my questions."  
  
"You didn't ask me any!"  
  
She glared at him, and realized he was right. Ignoring her embarrassment, Melissa nodded   
  
sharply. "Fine, then. What's your name?"  
  
He smiled smugly. "Grojavek."  
  
"Why were you in my kitchen?"  
  
The smile disappeared and he shrugged sullenly. "I wanted to be there."  
  
"But why?" When he didn't answer, she shook him again.  
  
"I'm going to be a great King!" he shouted. "King of your stupid world!"  
  
"King of *my* world?" Melissa's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Muklavuk will help me!"   
  
"Who?"  
  
His sigh was so deep and dramatic, she nearly laughed. "He's the greatest imp of all time. He's   
  
helping me. We'll get Her, and then we'll get you!"   
  
Melissa's eyebrows furrowed. "Get who?"  
  
The imp looked away, his face suddenly panicked. She felt his thin fingers twitching, ticklish   
  
against her skin. "No one."  
  
"Who, Grojavek?"  
  
"No one! You can't get Her! You won't!" She squeezed a little, until he choked on his words.   
  
"Don't kill me!" he pleaded.  
  
"Then tell me who she is."  
  
"All right," he said, his whole demeanor changing. "I take you to Her. She wants you anyway. I   
  
tell you everything, if I live." His smug grin was back.  
  
"Why should I believe you? For all I know, you could be working for her."  
  
"No!" he shouted, looking angry. He dropped his voice until she had to lean forward to hear him.   
  
"I kill Her. She used me and gave me up to die. She'll kill me, if I don't kill Her first. I can't kill Her if I'm   
  
dead."   
  
"Fine, you tell me, and I won't kill you."  
  
He giggled, sharp and maniacal, and she almost dropped him. "I don't trust you! You take me   
  
with you, then we both be safe."  
  
Melissa tilted her head slightly, considering it. Wendell would certainly disagree, but the little   
  
imp had a point. Whatever information they could get on this 'Soul Ravager' could only help them kill her.   
  
And she had to die. Melissa would see to that personally.  
  
"Deal. But I'm not untying you." She set up back on the ground, and Sport stalked up to him,   
  
hissing in the imp's face.   
  
"It's gonna eat me!" Grojavek screamed.  
  
"No he won't. We're leaving now and he's not coming with us. You'll be safe enough." She   
  
picked Sport up, and walked out of the room, the imp cursing behind her. A passing servant directed her to   
  
Wendell's door. Melissa knocked loudly.  
  
After a short pause, she heard muffled footsteps and then, "Yes?"  
  
She swallowed down the knot in her throat before answering. "Wendell, it's me. We need to   
  
leave. Now."  
  
"Melissa?" He opened the door and blinked at her. He was wearing a long shirt, and his curls   
  
were tousled from sleep. He looked handsome and well rested, and for some reason it irritated her. "Is   
  
something wrong?"  
  
"Except Terry being dead?" she snapped. He winced and she looked down at Sport, instantly   
  
regretting her words. "We need to leave as soon as we can," she continued, easing the sharpness in her   
  
tone. "That monster is waiting for us, and we owe it to Terry to not waste anymore time. I'm leaving Sport   
  
here, too," she added quickly, amazed she could get the words out. "I want you to take him and make sure   
  
he's safe. He will be safe, won't he?" She looked into his eyes again, desperate for some comfort.  
  
Wendell nodded slowly. "Of course," he whispered.   
  
"Good. Then let's go," she pleaded.  
  
He nodded again. "Let me just finish getting ready. I'll meet you in the entry hall. Antony is   
  
going to give us some supplies, so we have to wait for those."  
  
Melissa shoved Sport into his arms, the cat meowing as she did so. "Leave him with Tony for me.   
  
Please." Wendell nodded, cradling the cat in his arms. She knew she'd never be able to hand Sport over to   
  
a stranger herself. "Bye, Sporty," she said, kissing the top of his head. Any more, she knew, and she'd   
  
burst into tears. She turned, and without a look back, retreated to her room. She could still hear Sport   
  
crying as she shut the door behind her.  
  
**********  
  
Wendell arrived in the entry hall, not surprised to see Melissa glaring impatiently at him. Her   
  
moods from yesterday had apparently been whisked away by this overwhelming need to do something, and   
  
she already looked ready to explode. He feared what the nearly two day ride would do to her nerves. At   
  
least they had the potions. Without them, it would take almost four days, and it was just after lunch now.  
  
"Are you ready?" she demanded once he got close enough.   
  
This trip was going to try his patience,too, he could tell. "Yes. Antony has prepared everything   
  
for us already, he regrets he won't be able to see us off." During their brief goodbye earlier the older man   
  
had nearly started crying. Wendell knew his friend didn't want to have to do it again. "Why is he here?" he   
  
asked, finally seeing the imp.  
  
"Grojavek is coming with us."  
  
"Grojavek?"  
  
"The imp." She had the green creature tucked under her arm, tied with fresh ropes. "He knows   
  
who Soul Ravager is, and where we can find her."  
  
"Inesh said everything we'd need to know was at your home, though. Why bring him? He's   
  
probably lying."  
  
"I don't think he is. Besides, any extra information can only help us kill her."  
  
"Melissa, I really --"   
  
"I don't care, Wendell!" She stepped forward, her eyes flashing stormy gray. "He's coming with   
  
us. I'll deal with him."  
  
"We're in this together, Melissa, whether you want my help or not. I don't want him coming   
  
along. He can't be trusted."  
  
"I trust him."  
  
He bit down hard on his lower lip to keep himself from saying something insulting. "Are you sure   
  
you've thought about this?"  
  
"Jesus Christ," she muttered. "I'm not a lunatic, Wendell. Yes, I'm upset that Terry died, but I'm   
  
mad, too. And I won't let you stop me from going. And I won't let you stop Grojavek from going, either.   
  
You can stay."  
  
"I'm coming."  
  
"Whatever." Melissa turned and strode outside.   
  
Wendell followed, jogging to catch up with her. "Did you eat?"  
  
She glanced at him, then away. "Yeah."  
  
"Truly?"  
  
"No."  
  
He sighed and let it drop. It was easier for him to understand her situation, remembering as he did   
  
what it had been like when his own parents had been murdered. He hadn't done anything for a week, other   
  
than lay in his room all day. And although the hysteria he saw brimming in Melissa's eyes worried him, at   
  
least she was moving around.   
  
They mounted the horses in silence and a servant handed up the half full bottle to him.  
  
"They'll need it ag'n tomorra' afternoon" the man told him. "Be careful, yer Highness."  
  
"Thank you."   
  
The man nodded and backed away, and Wendell urged his horse with a slight pressure. The horse   
  
shot forward and Wendell had to grab on to keep from losing his saddle. The potions, it seemed, were   
  
working.   
  
Glancing behind him occasionally to make sure Melissa kept up, Wendell let the horse run without   
  
stopping. He kept a close eye on both mounts, but neither seemed to need the rest. He stopped once to let   
  
them all drink from a nearby stream and then they continued riding until nightfall, stopping once it got too   
  
dark to see. He went about setting up a campsite and tending to the horses, but they seemed no more   
  
winded than after a normal day of riding. It was a great boon from Antony, and he would have to   
  
remember to properly reward his friend later.   
  
Melissa sat on the ground talking softly with the imp while Wendell moved about them. He   
  
caught a few words as he passed by, but they never meant anything to him. As he stoked the fire to   
  
crackling life, he wondered if she would bother to share his confidence anymore. His heart twisted inside,   
  
and he inhaled deeply to calm himself. The air was warm and smelled of dirt and leaves, but it didn't   
  
soothe the king. Was any hope they had for a future gone now, eaten away by loss and revenge? He   
  
snapped a twig in two and threw both pieces into the fire, and watched them bounce out again, smoldering.   
  
Had the giant killed both Terry and Melissa that day?  
  
He looked over at the woman who was half his soul, wishing he could save her. This need of hers   
  
frightened and worried him, and he didn't have the faintest idea of what to do about it. Or what to do about   
  
Soul Ravager. They had to find the answers in Melissa's home or they would never win. He certainly   
  
didn't trust this Grojavek. It was an imp, for troll's sake! *Not that Melissa would know not to trust him*   
  
he thought to himself. *Does she even understand what her past means?* He watched her as she chewed   
  
aimlessly on a piece of bread, sharing part of it with the imp. She was staring at the fire but her eyes were   
  
glassy and distant. *She's a Princess now, with land and people. But she still has a whole life in the Tenth   
  
Kingdom. One she'll want to go back to, I'm sure.* He didn't think she loved him enough to stay. He   
  
wasn't sure she loved him at all.  
  
Wendell leapt to his feet, ignoring her startled cry and going to the horses. He needed her, like   
  
flowers needed the sun, and yet she would leave him when this was all over and he wouldn't be able to stop   
  
her. If staying made her miserable -- how could he force her into doing so? If he hadn't seen the look in   
  
her eyes the night at Aileen's, he'd be tempted to give up on his love now, not that his heart would let him   
  
do that easily. But there had been something there ... something he hoped she'd recognize.   
  
He pulled out a comb and started brushing down his horse, a big, bay gelding with a wide chest   
  
and long legs. The horse nickered softly, shifting from foot to foot. The steady movement eased Wendell's   
  
pain a little, let his mind release thoughts of the future to concentrate on the present. He missed Teresa,   
  
when he thought of her. She'd obviously been a tremendous woman, and one of the kindest people he'd   
  
ever met. And, in some small way, he'd wished she could have met Antony. They would have been an   
  
interesting pair. Teresa would have known what to say to Melissa, to get her to calm down and just think.   
  
Wendell leaned his forehead against the horse, breathing in the thick scents. Teresa wasn't here.   
  
It was just him and Melissa and this Grojavek, going to face an enemy they knew nothing about. "Well   
  
that's just perfect," he murmured, straightening. He finished brushing down his horse, and then did   
  
Melissa's smaller black horse as well, giving all his concentration to the simple task. It didn't work very   
  
well to clear away his worries, but it passed time he wouldn't be able to spend sleeping.  
  
When he returned to Melissa, she was already asleep, Grojavek lying next to her. The imp's eyes   
  
were open and watched Wendell closely.   
  
"If you lie to us, I will kill you myself," Wendell said softly.  
  
Grojavek squeaked and his eyes rolled back in his head. It wasn't until after Wendell had finished   
  
eating that the imp finally spoke.  
  
"I not lying. I want to kill Her too."  
  
Wendell grunted. "Make sure that's all you do." He ate a small meal and then lay down on his   
  
blanket. Another full day and a half of riding waited for them. More time to think and worry and wonder,   
  
and then there would be no time left at all. He watched Melissa across the fire for a long time, studying her   
  
face, her forehead creased even in sleep. Next to her, Grojavek had finally gone to sleep and was snoring,   
  
loudly for a creature so small.  
  
In Wendell's dreams that night, his worries had free rein. Imps and mermaids and horrific   
  
monsters danced and scampered around him as he held Melissa in his arms. And when he looked down at   
  
her, she was as pale and still as Teresa had been, blood covering her lovely face. He woke up at dawn,   
  
sweating and calling her name.  
  
**********  
  
Grojavek's arms had fallen asleep again. He tried to wiggle his fingers and had no idea if he   
  
succeeded or not. They had been riding all day, and no one paid any attention to him. Of course, no one   
  
spoke more than a few sentences most of the ride anyway. The woman had gotten all of the information   
  
Groj was going to give last night. Now it seemed she was done with him.  
  
*Good* he thought, trying to spit. The horse jolted as he did so, and most of the liquid dripped   
  
down his chin onto his green chest, tickling him. The imp sighed heavily, feeling the rope dig further into   
  
his skin. He would demand that she set him free tonight! This was getting out of hand. Muklavuk silently   
  
agreed with him.  
  
Groj liked being smarter. It made problems like these less scary. Normally he'd be too terrified to   
  
even think about what the night would be like, let alone how he would be making demands. This being   
  
courageous had its good points.  
  
Still, he decided it would have been better to be home rather than in the situation at all.  
  
The two humans stopped the horses for the night, and the woman untied Groj from the saddle,   
  
setting him down on the ground while Wendell did whatever it was humans did when they camped. Imps   
  
always used the trees and leaves and dug in for the night. The humans were much more obnoxious than   
  
that, of course.  
  
Wriggling his shoulders, Grojavek felt life start to tingle back into them, and everywhere they   
  
touched rope, they burned with the magic of awakening. Groj hopped up and down, tears leaking from his   
  
eyes as he giggled at the strange pain. The feeling passed after a torturous minute and he collapsed to the   
  
ground, panting.   
  
The woman sat down next to him and silently untied one of his arms, handing him some food. He   
  
grabbed it quickly, stuffing the stale bread into his mouth. It took him a long time to eat. A big mouth   
  
would be useful sometimes, he thought.  
  
"I want to tell you about Rob."  
  
Groj looked up, but the woman was staring at King Wendell, who had come and sat down across   
  
the fire from them. King Wendell. Groj shook his head, feeling his ears flap softly against his skin. What   
  
terrible luck did he have to run into King Wendell? But then Grojavek giggled happily, earning a stern   
  
glare from the two humans. He looked away from them, his lips still pulled back in a grin. Muklavuk had   
  
helped him turn even that elf-all situation into something glorious. If his hands had been free, he would   
  
have clapped them together with excitement. She would die. All of them would! All but Grojavek.  
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
Stifling his happiness, Grojavek settled down, leaning against the woman's pack so Muklavuk   
  
could listen to the conversation.  
  
"I want someone to know." She was quiet, and Grojavek watched her, but the light from the fire   
  
was unsteady in her eyes. "In case something happens to me with Soul Ravager."  
  
"Don't say that!" The imp thought Wendell's anger was predictable.  
  
"It could happen. And ... I want you to know. I would feel better if I didn't hide this from you."  
  
Humans were such complicated creatures.   
  
"If it helps you..."  
  
"It will." She continued after a quick breath. "Rob and I were married when I was nineteen and   
  
foolish. He was twenty-six, and an established, well-respected actor. And just the most gorgeous man I'd   
  
ever seen. We both liked to party and he was good to me, on the surface. The media -- the newspaper   
  
reporters?" Grojavek and Wendell both nodded in understanding. "They loved it. The newspapers in our   
  
world like nothing better than to pry into actors' and actresses' lives. And when you take the two most   
  
popular at the time ... well, what else would you expect? I think we were pressured into getting married,   
  
almost." She shook her head fiercely. "I'm not going to blame any of my decisions on anyone else, though.   
  
I decided to marry him, and he made the same decision about me.  
  
"The next three years are a predictable story. An on-and-off relationship with lots of passion and   
  
even more fighting. It was the most free publicity I'd ever received. Rob started taking drugs, um, pills and   
  
other things he thought would make him feel better," she looked up, and when Groj looked over at   
  
Wendell, the king was nodding again, "and he started to change. He got crazier. He got meaner, too."  
  
"Melissa-"  
  
"It's all right. This story doesn't bother me anymore. Not after all that's happened."  
  
They were both quiet again for awhile.   
  
"Rob hit me one night. He'd been threatening me for weeks -- that's when I got Sport -- and he   
  
finally just went over the edge. I left immediately, of course. I had enough money and power that I didn't   
  
need to take abuse from him, and Terry would have dragged me out by my hair anyway. He called me a   
  
few nights later, and he was completely sloshed."  
  
"Sloshed?"  
  
"Drunk. He'd been drinking all three days, apparently. Anyway, he called and said -- I'll never   
  
forget it -- he said 'It's all your fault. I hope you're happy, I've done this for you.' Then he hung up. When   
  
I tried to call him back, his phone was off the hook. The next morning, they found the body of a young   
  
woman, hell, a girl really, in the trash outside his property." Grojavek perked up, more interested now that   
  
there was talk of bodies, especially human bodies.  
  
"There was a huge investigation, and he was let off. Can you believe it? Let off. But he had been   
  
the one who called and reported the body, and the police didn't want to arrest someone with that much   
  
power. His last movie had been the top-grossing movie of all time, and they weren't going to fight that   
  
money with only circumstantial evidence. He may have been drunk when he called me, but when he   
  
cleaned up in the morning, he sure got smart. No fingerprints, murder weapon, witnesses, nothing. Just   
  
me. I went into long talks with my publicity agents and lawyers, we held meetings with his people, I had   
  
several death threats sent to my home. Everyone I knew -- every last person, Wendell, even Terry -- told   
  
me just to keep quiet, that to do anything would only put me in danger and accomplish nothing. I *knew*   
  
it was him, though. And do you know what I did Wendell? I did nothing. I let it slide by, and the death   
  
threats, and the press, and the moment passed. And Rob walked free."  
  
She seemed to be having trouble breathing, and Grojavek cursed softly at her for leaving out the   
  
best parts. He had wanted to hear how the woman had been killed, and what this Rob was like. Wendell   
  
stood up and came around to the woman's other side, kneeling down next to her, but she held out her hand   
  
to keep him away.   
  
"I made my choices, Wendell. I don't need any pity, not when that girl died and I kept on living in   
  
my nice house with my perfect life. If you feel sorry for anyone, it should be her. I don't deserve pity.   
  
You don't know what it's like to go to bed every night, knowing you hold the key to someone's revenge in   
  
your hands, and unable to do anything about it." She was staring at the fire, and Groj suspected she saw   
  
only the girl's body.   
  
"That's why you want to go after Soul Ravager."  
  
"Yes." She hissed the word in such a voice that Grojavek shrank back into the folds of the   
  
backpack to hide himself. He had never heard so much feeling in one word.   
  
No one said anything after that, and the fire slowly died while they all sat around it, thinking. The   
  
imp wasn't sure what the other two were considering, but he was looking carefully at Muklavuk's plans.   
  
The woman sitting next to him, his captor now, frightened him almost as much as She did. If he weren't so   
  
sure that the Great Imp King was going to help him, he'd back out now. They had plans that went beyond   
  
what the humans wanted, but Groj wasn't so sure this woman wouldn't just kill him if he betrayed her.   
  
*Do it quickly* Muklavuk advised. *And at the right time.*  
  
*How will I know?* he wailed to himself.  
  
*I will tell you. She is not the only one who knows of revenge.*  
  
The woman re-tied his hand and stretched out on her blanket, while King Wendell sat for a long   
  
time and stared around at nothing. It was boring enough that the imp even started to forget his fear, and he   
  
found himself falling asleep. *Maybe* he thought to himself, just before he started dreaming, *I won't   
  
have to kill the humans...*  
  
********** 


	5. Part 5

"Welcome to your ancestral home, Melissa." Wendell slowed his horse down to a walk as they   
  
crested the small hill and peered down into the valley below. The last of the potion had worn off earlier   
  
that afternoon, but they only had had to ride for another few hours to reach the border between Wendell's   
  
Kingdom and the Eighth Kingdom. They had passed unmolested, and it was late afternoon now as they   
  
stared down at the castle that Melissa knew was hers.  
  
The water stretched out deep and blue in the distance, breaking against a tan, sandy shore. The   
  
castle itself had been built right on the beach, and one set of gleaming stairs disappeared directly into the   
  
water. The rest of the structure glimmered like some remarkable dream come to life. The stone was pale   
  
yellow, and marble steps led up and curved all around its shining walls. Pillars circled the building, and a   
  
gilt dome curved above the roof, giving it the feel of a splendid, unwrapped gift. As they approached,   
  
Melissa noticed that the walls had tall windows filled with clear glass, and one could peer right inside the   
  
castle into magnificent rooms.  
  
"It's perfect," she breathed, forgetting Terry and her pain for a moment of wonder.   
  
She felt Wendell's eyes eagerly watching her, and instinctively she turned away to protect herself.   
  
*I'm not ready for that yet* she thought, trying not to imagine the hurt in his blue eyes.   
  
"Come on," she said, spurring her horse to a trot. Glancing down at the imp, she saw he was   
  
staring at the ocean with great interest, his round eyes even rounder. Not quite sure what was there that   
  
interested him, she reminded herself to keep an eye on Grojavek while they were here. She heard the   
  
steady thud of Wendell's horse following her as they rode down into the valley. There was a small fishing   
  
village sprawled at the castle's base, stretching both directions along the shore and inward, the streets and   
  
piers busy with villagers. People turned to watch them pass with suspicious eyes. Some recognized   
  
Wendell, but few of those actually bowed. Melissa wondered whether that bothered him. Was she   
  
inheriting a group of happily leader-less rebels? How would they feel about her when they found out who   
  
she was? *Why does it matter? I'm not staying.*  
  
They rode to the castle gates, which were closed against outsiders. As they approached, they saw   
  
that the building was not as magnificent as from a distance. The pale stone was cracked and chipped, and   
  
the shine she'd noticed was actually the sun reflecting off the sea. The tall windows, stretching up to the   
  
roof, were dirty and pock-marked. It showed the wear of the constant sea wind and obviously hadn't been   
  
cared for in many years.   
  
Melissa wondered what it had been like before, when her family had lived here. *My family* she   
  
thought, the idea of it to big to grasp. Terry could have told her. Suddenly, the fierce pain she'd been   
  
trying to push aside swept over her. Her eyes filled with tears and her throat ached with grief. Wendell   
  
rode up next to her. "Melissa?" His voice was quiet.  
  
"I'm ok."  
  
"Are you sure? I can do this on my own."  
  
"No." She pressed her fingers against her eyes until it hurt, willing the grief away with thoughts of   
  
Soul Ravager and revenge. "I have to do it."  
  
He nodded, though his eyes were filled with doubt.  
  
They continued to the castle, a few people falling in behind them with soft words and dark eyes.   
  
She couldn't tell if they were simply curious or protective. Grojavek pulled the horse blanket around him,   
  
effectively hiding himself. Wind brushed past them, carrying the tang of salt air, and a faint memory, with   
  
it. Hadn't she always loved the ocean?   
  
The lone guard straightened and executed a sloppy bow when he saw Wendell. "Your Highness.   
  
We, ah ... what ... I mean, welcome. Is Lord Joffrey expecting you?" he asked, his voice weak.  
  
"No. However, it is imperative that I speak with him. Is he available?"  
  
"Ah, I ... I believe so. The castle -- we're not prepared to host any guests, your Highness."  
  
Wendell smiled in a way only rulers could. "That's all right my boy." Melissa eyed the guard,   
  
who looked old enough to be her father. "We just need to speak to him. It is extremely urgent."  
  
"Of course. And who else may I say is calling on him?"  
  
Melissa felt every last pair of eyes rest on her. She nudged her horse forward a step. "Tell him its   
  
King Wendell and the daughter of Prince Andre." The small crowd inhaled as one and began chattering   
  
furiously amongst themselves. The guard had gone white and stared at her with startled eyes.   
  
"Are you ... certain, miss?"  
  
She copied Wendell's posture, straight and confident, trying to look like someone who was used to   
  
being obeyed. "Yes," she said simply. It worked, and the guard bowed deep and low, before scurrying   
  
inside to open the gates.   
  
Melissa glanced at Wendell, and they shared a brief, knowing smile. He looked away first, but not   
  
before she saw the hope lighting his features. Realizing how cruelly she'd been treating him since Terry   
  
had died, she hung her head slightly. She wanted to beg him to understand, to stay with her now when she   
  
needed him the most, but she couldn't. Not in front of all these people. Gazing at the crowd, the air filled   
  
with the stench of fish, Melissa shook her head slightly. Not just 'these' people, but her people. *I'm not   
  
staying* she repeated firmly.   
  
The gates inched open, grinding along the ground the whole way until everyone was wincing.   
  
Melissa entered first, Wendell right behind her, and most of the crowd pushed its way in after. The guard   
  
shouted for help and a few more armed men rushed out, struggling to keep the villagers back. Melissa   
  
pushed through anyway, and her horse opened a path for them to the castle. They dismounted   
  
simultaneously and, after untying Grojavek and taking him along, left their horses and the small mob in the   
  
courtyard, entering into the building through an arched doorway. Two more guards appeared and swung   
  
the large, wooden doors shut behind them, and it was quiet.   
  
They stood in a long hallway, doors spaced evenly along its length. At the far end was a window   
  
that took up most of the wall, looking out into the sea. When the sun set the orange and red rays would   
  
light the whole room. Melissa imagined it would glow with light, warm and inviting. From out of a   
  
doorway in the middle of the hall, a man walked out, supporting himself on a cane.   
  
"Caterina?" he asked, his voice hesitant.  
  
Wendell touched her arm and gestured at the imp. She gave him up willingly to meet the old man.   
  
Frowning, she said. "Are you Lord Joffrey?"  
  
"Yes." He continued his steady, but slow, progression, and she fidgeted in place until he finally   
  
stopped several feet away. His face was heavily wrinkled, with creases etched long and deep along his   
  
forehead and eyes. It made him look sad, and the way his lips seemed to naturally turn down only added to   
  
the impression. His eyes were blue as an afternoon sky, but cloudy with age. They fastened on her,   
  
studying her closely, pulling her in.   
  
She shook her head, feeling dazed. "I'm Melissa. I ..." She paused, uncertain how to continue.   
  
What could she say to this man? *The truth* she thought. *It's all I have.* "I recently found out that I'm   
  
the daughter of Prince Andre. I was taken from here when I was too young to remember it. Are you - I   
  
mean," she exhaled slowly. "Do you know me?"  
  
"I do. Not as Melissa, but I remember you." He reached out and touched her cheek gently. His   
  
skin felt soft and thin and frail. "You look so much like Andre did," he whispered. "You have his eyes."   
  
Melissa smiled and felt her chin trembling. He knew her family. "What was he like? And my   
  
mother? Were you here with them much?"   
  
"Sometimes. They liked to have grand parties, with food and music and games." His lips crept up   
  
into a warm smile. "The whole family did. They'd invite all of their relatives and friends and have a lavish   
  
good time. Until Serena died." The brief happiness disappeared. "My dear sister was the first to go, and   
  
the whole line has followed. Except for me." He touched her cheek again. "And now you."  
  
"Are we related?"  
  
The old man's lips trembled into a smile. "I'm your grandmother's brother."  
  
"I didn't know," she murmured, taking his hand in hers. *A family* she repeated.   
  
"Your mother took you across. Is she alive still?"   
  
Melissa shook her head. "Terry, she said that my mother died of heartbreak after we crossed. My   
  
father never made it across the mirror to us. What happened to him?"  
  
Joffrey tugged on her hand, leading her towards one of the nearest doors. "I'm tired, Caterina, let's   
  
sit down while I tell you."   
  
Melissa blinked, startled at hearing the name. "Caterina," she repeated softly. It felt strange and   
  
uncomfortable. She'd always been Melissa. *Not always* she thought.  
  
"Ah, you don't remember that do you?" They walked slowly towards the door, Wendell on the   
  
other side of Joffrey, hiding Grojavek who was being blessedly quiet. "You're Melissa now. I've always   
  
thought of you as Caterina. It will be strange, using your new name. Surely you'll forgive an old man if I   
  
slip up?"   
  
"Of course," she promised.   
  
"Caterina was my mother's name. Did you know that?" She shook her head. "Did that servant   
  
girl, the one who lost her husband, did she survive?"  
  
"Teresa," Melissa whispered. Her eyes filled with now-familiar tears. "Yes, she took care of me   
  
when my mother died. She-" the words bottled up and she couldn't speak.   
  
"She died a few days ago," Wendell spoke up. "She was a great woman, and raised Melissa as her   
  
own."  
  
Joffrey nodded. "That is good she cared for you. She must have told you about us, then. There   
  
was no one else who could."   
  
Melissa could only walk along silently, unable to get any words out.   
  
They entered a small room, with a fire burning in the fireplace in one wall and another large   
  
window opposite the door. Outside they could see part of the castle lawn, the plants mostly dead from lack   
  
of care. There were several armchairs with comfortable cushions and a table made out of dark wood in the   
  
center. They sat in the cushions, and Joffrey rested his cane on the table in front of them. Its carved head,   
  
Melissa noted, was of a sea horse. Wendell settled Groj at his feet, earning a stare from the old man.  
  
"Why do you have an imp as a prisoner?"  
  
"He's helping us," Melissa jumped in before Wendell. "He won't hurt you."  
  
Joffrey stared at him for a long time before shrugging it off, although his eyes wandered to   
  
Grojavek occasionally. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?" he offered. "We don't have many   
  
servants, but they aren't very busy, either." Melissa and Wendell both declined, and he shrugged. "Very   
  
well, you're anxious. I can understand dear. Do you know anything of what happened to your father?"  
  
"Just that he was supposed to head out to sea and enter the mirror from there, and then the servant   
  
with him would shut it off and throw it in. We were supposed to meet him, but he never came. Terry never   
  
knew what happened. Although I would guess that he died." Even though she knew she was talking about   
  
her father, this was easier ground for her to stand on.   
  
"Aye. He and his man went out to sea -- I tried to warn him not to, but he was always stubborn."   
  
Melissa glanced at Wendell and caught the faintest hint of a smile. "But he went anyway, and a storm   
  
came out of nowhere. It was a magical storm, everyone at the castle knew that she had sent it."  
  
"Soul Ravager?"  
  
"So you've heard that too. We took to calling her that after Andre's death. The storm raged for a   
  
whole day and we could only wait it out with failing hopes. Three days later, Andre's boat came back in   
  
pieces. The day after that, we found the servant and later that night, Andre's body washed up on shore. We   
  
never knew what happened to the three of you. The mirror was never found."  
  
"It sank into the Great North Sea," Wendell said. When they both looked at him, he explained,   
  
"Gustav told us. He's a magic mirror."   
  
Melissa frowned but let the explanation go. From what she'd seen of the Nine Kingdoms, it was a   
  
perfectly normal occurrence. "How do you know these storms are the same?"  
  
"If you saw them, you would know. One hit several days ago and killed three villagers. One was   
  
a child." He sighed, and all the suffering settled around his shoulders. Melissa leaned over and squeezed   
  
his hand gently.   
  
"We were told that Soul Ravager is the mermaid that loved my grandfather."   
  
"We've always known it was her. The wind, it spoke of her."  
  
"The wind?"  
  
"Aye. She controls it, as much as anyone can control the wind. We've tried to stop her, Caterina.   
  
So many times we've tried, and everyone has been lost."   
  
"We've come to stop her, Joffrey."  
  
He sat up, staring at her in horror. "You mustn't! She'll kill you, and then who will rule here when   
  
I am gone?"  
  
"We know how to stop her, though. Someone told us, someone we can trust." Melissa thought   
  
briefly of Inesh, of the endless depths of his eyes, and hoped he hid in peace for the rest of time. "There is   
  
something here that can help us. Something that can kill her. Do you know what it is?"  
  
Joffrey was shaking his head, rubbing his hands roughly against his knees. "She'll know your   
  
coming and send a storm. You won't even get there."  
  
"We have to try, Joffrey. I have to. Do you know what the item is?"  
  
"No, I don't. There's nothing here. If we had known, we would have used it ourselves."   
  
Melissa sank back into her chair, feeling defeat crushing her chest, making it hard to breathe. She   
  
had to do this.   
  
"Perhaps we could search the castle?" Wendell asked.  
  
"Of course, but we would know already if something was here."  
  
Wendell stood, holding a hand out to Melissa. "Still, it cannot hurt to search."   
  
She looked up into his face, and he watched her intently. It struck her heart that his eyes still held   
  
no malice, just calm assurance. Taking his hand, she lifted herself up, feeling renewed by Wendell's   
  
support. "Right. We have to look. You stay here, we'll be fine."  
  
"What about the imp?"  
  
"He's tied up tightly. He won't go anywhere." Groj grunted in agreement, looking frustrated.   
  
"We'll take care of him, don't worry."  
  
"You won't find anything."  
  
"I have to look," Melissa said, hearing desperation in her voice.   
  
Joffrey leaned back into his chair. "If you wish, dear." His own voice was filled with   
  
hopelessness.   
  
They decided to split up, and for hours they searched the length and breadth of the castle. Melissa   
  
paused whenever she came across a painting or a tapestry, studying each of them for some sign of the   
  
familiar. In one, she thought she saw a man who she looked like, but it was hard to tell. All of the rooms   
  
in the castle had huge windows and if they had no windows, then they had skylights. The castle felt much   
  
fresher and lighter than it's stone walls and years of collapse would suggest. The furniture was old and   
  
much of it dusty, but everything had been built to last and was made of sturdy materials. Her family may   
  
have enjoyed their luxuries, but they certainly had a practical side. And though she searched every single   
  
room, not stopping even when the sun had dropped below the rim of the horizon, she didn't find anything   
  
that would help them kill a monster.   
  
"Did you find it?" she demanded of Wendell later, when they met up in the grand hallway once   
  
more. A servant was quietly checking the small torches that lined the walls. Other than that, the castle felt   
  
empty in the darkness. From her search, Melissa knew that wasn't far from the truth. No more than twenty   
  
people lived here, including the ten or so guards.   
  
Wendell smoothed down his hair, frowning. "No. I saw nothing that it could even possibly have   
  
been. I'm sorry, Melissa."  
  
"Damn it!" The words echoed down the hallway, and the servant paused to look her way. She   
  
stomped her foot, needing to do something with her angry energy. "Damn it. It has to be here, Wendell."  
  
"It's not," he said simply.  
  
She glared at him and took a step away, leaning against one of the side tables. It had to be here,   
  
but they'd looked everywhere. Every last inch of the castle had been combed by both of them, separately.   
  
"We both couldn't have missed it," she muttered.   
  
"Why don't we have some food?"  
  
"I'm not hungry." Every inch of the castle.  
  
"You have to eat, Melissa."  
  
"Damn it, I'm not hungry." She turned on him, welcoming a target for her frustration. "I'm not   
  
giving up, Wendell. Inesh wouldn't lie to us."  
  
"Inesh wasn't very helpful. He said only that you had to return home. There was nothing about   
  
what or even how we would kill her. It's a fool's quest."  
  
"Then I'm a bigger fool than you can imagine because I know it's here."  
  
"You want it to be here," he sighed.  
  
"It is." Melissa's hands fisted and she dug them into her thighs. "It has to be. I'm going outside to   
  
look."  
  
"Melissa, please. We're not going to find it. Let me form an army, like Antony suggested --"  
  
"Jesus, Wendell! Why do you want me to fail at this?"   
  
His lips thinned angrily. "I don't want you to fail. By the Queen! You don't even know what   
  
we're looking for! I just don't want you to be hurt."  
  
Their eyes locked, and she saw understanding in his. They both knew she was already hurt, too   
  
deep and fresh to let this faint hope go. All her happiness rested on killing Soul Ravager. "I'm going   
  
outside," she repeated.   
  
He nodded slowly. "Eat something when you come back in. Please?"  
  
His concern smoothed some of the edge on her temper and she smiled hesitantly at him. If she   
  
weren't careful, she would lose him, too. "I will," she said, heading for the double doors. Opening one of   
  
the doors, she stepped outside into the night air, assaulted by the sea wind. The smell was much fiercer   
  
here, where the wind blew fresh and strong. *How can anyone control the wind?* she thought, scanning   
  
the ground aimlessly.   
  
The brown grass crunched underneath the soles of her shoes. She decided that she would have a   
  
healthy garden if she were to live here. With plants that would do well so near to the ocean. Her feet led   
  
her unerringly to the steps that disappeared into the water, and she stood at the top of the staircase, listening   
  
to the waves break against the stone. The area was shored up from erosion, but the passage of time still had   
  
left its mark. In the early moonlight, she could see glimmers of algae along some of the higher steps.   
  
*Low tide* she thought, walking down the stairs, stopping before it got slippery. There was no railing to   
  
hold her, just the wind buffeting her chest.  
  
"How do you kill a mermaid?" she asked the water. The waves gave no answer, never ceasing   
  
their endless movement. Inesh had told them she had to return home. "I'm here," she said, holding her   
  
arms out to the water and the wind. "Where is it? Why aren't you helping me?"  
  
Something flickered at the edge of her vision, silver in the moonlight. In the silence between the   
  
crashing of waves, Melissa heard a whisper.  
  
"Hello?" She peered into the black depths, seeing nothing. "Hello? Is someone there?" She   
  
didn't feel afraid, she realized, just hopeful.  
  
Again, she heard the whisper, and this time she could make out the words: "She must be stopped."  
  
"Are you out there? Can you help me? Hello?" Melissa took another step down, her foot sliding   
  
a little on the algae-slicked step.  
  
"You wish to stop her?"   
  
Melissa squinted, thinking she saw a form under the water, but the silver turned out to be merely   
  
the crest of a breaking wave. "I do," she said, hoping she'd really heard the words. "I don't know how.   
  
Can you help me?"  
  
"We can." There was another flash, the shadow of another form, and it disappeared. "You are his   
  
grandchild, we can sense it."  
  
She stepped down again, standing unsteadily. "I am. I've come here to stop Soul Ravager."  
  
"Rena." The one word was whispered by many voices.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Her name is Rena. Your grandfather never knew that."  
  
"Who are you?" Melissa frowned, hoping it wasn't a trick. "Please, show yourselves."  
  
The water glimmered, and for a moment she thought it was only the moonlight until the silver   
  
shimmers became hair and the waves became women's bodies. *Mermaids* Melissa realized. There were   
  
five of them, all women with flowing hair of bright silver and pale, pale skin. They were naked, like the   
  
pictures in old books showed and not the Twentieth century versions. One flipped her tail up, slapping the   
  
water gently and Melissa gasped aloud. It was long and sinuous and strong, blue-green in color, the scales   
  
iridescent.   
  
"We are her sisters. We can help you."  
  
"How?" Melissa's heart pounded so hard it hurt. She took another tentative step, wishing there   
  
were a railing. A wave crashed a step below and water splashed against her legs.   
  
One of the sisters swam up to the steps, bobbing up and down with the waves. She held herself in   
  
place with strong strokes of her tail. Slowly, she held up her palms with a knife resting on them. "There   
  
are two things that must be done. First, she must be stabbed with this, the knife we gave her to kill the   
  
prince."  
  
"My grandfather."  
  
"Yes. She is our sister, we do not care about some human."  
  
Melissa frowned, but chanced another step down into the chilly water to get closer to the mermaid.   
  
"Then why help me?"  
  
All five women's faces turned sad and they keened as one. The sound was low and heartbreaking.   
  
"She must find peace," the first mermaid finally said. "She will not find it this way." She swam even   
  
closer, until her breasts brushed the steps. "Take this knife."  
  
Carefully, Melissa crouched down and took the knife from the mermaid's hands, brushing the   
  
woman's cold skin accidentally. "What is the second step?"  
  
The mermaid swam backwards before speaking. "Once she is stabbed, she will be human. She   
  
must be returned to the us, to the sea, to complete the task."  
  
"You mean push her into the ocean?"  
  
"Yes." The mermaids wailed again and Melissa felt her eyes fill with tears. "It is the only way.   
  
But you must hurry, before the wind betrays you to her."  
  
"Of course. We'll leave tonight -- now."  
  
"We will help you. Take your ship and head that way." The mermaid pointed one long, slender   
  
arm straight out to sea. "Her island is there. We will gather aid and help you get to her before the sun   
  
rises."   
  
Melissa stood, slipping a little and catching herself. She held the knife tightly in hand, determined   
  
to not let it go. "How will we find you?"  
  
"We will find you. Go!" They seemed to roar the word, and the wind picked up, blowing   
  
intensely, seeming to push Melissa up the steps. She staggered up then, almost falling but always held up   
  
by the wind.   
  
She ran for the castle, waving the knife in the air and screaming, "Wendell! Wake up! Come   
  
here! Wendell, I've got it! We have to leave now!"  
  
**********  
  
Half the castle was waiting for her when she rushed back through the open door. Wendell thought   
  
she had finally snapped just by looking at her. She clutched a knife in her hand and waved it around   
  
without thought of safety, her hair was a tangled mass, and her pants were wet. He had to admit she looked   
  
glorious, even like that.  
  
The others crowded around her, pushing Wendell to the outside and making enough noise to stir   
  
the dogginess deep within. He snarled softly and, instead of forcing back the feeling, decided to use it. He   
  
had learned humility from his time as a dog, but he'd also seen how easy it was to be pushed around.   
  
Lately, that was all that seemed to be happening to him. Perhaps he could harness that dog quality again,   
  
and get back a little of what he'd lost.   
  
"Everyone be quiet!" he commanded, pleased with the way his voice carried down the long hall.   
  
Even Melissa fell silent under his words, and he stifled a grin. *Success* he thought. Aloud, he said,   
  
"Melissa, come with me into the study and we will discuss this. The rest of you are dismissed." The   
  
servants and guards all bowed and slipped away after only the tiniest hesitation. The biting, churlish   
  
feeling he'd termed his 'dogginess,' disappeared as he watched them go, making sure the crowd at least   
  
made the pretense of leaving. After spending months struggling against it, he'd found the way to ease his   
  
curse. Openly smiling, Wendell turned back to tell Melissa, but she had already disappeared through the   
  
doorway.   
  
He hurried after her, and found her pacing restlessly around the room. Her empty hand gestured in   
  
sharp, frantic bursts, while she tapped the flat side of the knife blade against her hip. She nearly leapt   
  
towards him when he entered, shoving the knife in his face.   
  
"We have to go," she spit out. "Right now. This is it."  
  
Holding a hand up, both to stop her and protect himself, Wendell put some distance between them.   
  
"Wait. Go where? What is this knife you keep throwing around?"  
  
She sighed, planting one hand on her hip. "I don't have time to tell you everything. The mermaids   
  
are waiting. They're going to take us to Rena. We have to get a ship."  
  
Wendell blinked, trying to piece together the information and failing. "Rena?" he ventured as a   
  
start.  
  
"Soul Ravager. Look, here's the summary: I went outside and mermaids came up to me from the   
  
ocean. They want to help us kill Rena -- Soul Ravager -- because she's their sister. They want her to be at   
  
peace. This," she held the knife out, "is the knife they gave her originally to kill the prince, who was my   
  
grandfather. Now they say it's the one thing that can kill her. We have to stab her, and then we have to   
  
push her into the sea. It's the only way. And they'll bring us to her island twice as fast if we get on a ship   
  
and get out there right now." As she spoke, she walked around and scooped up a sleeping Grojavek. The   
  
little imp squealed, his eyes flying open as she stopped at the doorway. "Let's go."   
  
Unable to argue with that, Wendell followed after her.   
  
Joffrey had just come down to the hallway to see what the noise was about, taking his slow, steady   
  
steps to get to them. Melissa explained the story again to his disbelieving eyes and then abruptly left. The   
  
young king shrugged and followed after her into the windy night.   
  
The mob had long since dispersed and there was only the tired guard leaning against the gates as   
  
they left on foot. Melissa demanded information on where they could get a ship, and he hurriedly answered   
  
her, apparently as moved by her crazed eyes as everyone else had been. Wendell suspected the fact she   
  
was wielding a knife in one hand and an imp in the other had something to do with it, as well.  
  
They ran down towards the pier, stopping at the house the guard had suggested and knocking   
  
furiously. It was a small, stone building, almost a tiny version of the castle. It showed even more wear in   
  
the moonlight, and it's pale stone was grimier, though the garden along the side was well cared for. A man   
  
answered Melissa's frantic pounding with heavy eyes and a curse on his lips. When he saw who was at his   
  
door, he dropped a hasty bow and promised to be ready in a few minutes to serve the Princess. Apparently   
  
the news of her arrival had spread quickly.   
  
True to his word, the fisherman, Dennis, had them out on the water within minutes, the wind   
  
pushing at the sails. His boat was nearly thirty feet long, and sliced eagerly through the waves. Dennis was   
  
dressed in pants and a heavy coat, a knit cap rolled down to protect his ears from the wailing wind.   
  
Wendell and Melissa huddled at the back of the boat, using Dennis as a shield from the cold.   
  
"Uh, Princess?" Dennis' deep voice warbled uncertainly, "There's somethin' comin' at us. Big   
  
fish, sorta. These them?" Melissa had relayed part of her tale to the fisherman as he'd worked to get them   
  
going. She stood now and stalked to the bow, leaning over the edge until Wendell had to get up and follow   
  
her, afraid she'd fall in. When he looked over the railing, he saw the pale features of a woman, her hair   
  
sparkling silver.   
  
Behind her, a male came into view pressing up against the side of the boat. His arms were hugely   
  
muscled as he started to strain against the wood. Wendell frowned, and then looked down the length to   
  
find merman lined up and doing the same. He jerked forward with the boat, and felt the surge of speed   
  
through his feet. Somehow, these mermen were pushing them towards the island. "Remarkable," Wendell   
  
breathed. Watching them gave him a headache, and the wind was biting into his skin, so he put an arm   
  
around Melissa to lead her to the back again. She surprised him by settling into his embrace.   
  
"They came," she said, holding the knife in both hands. The desperation was gone from her eyes,   
  
he noticed with relief. But deep within he saw an implacable resolution that looked almost as frightening.   
  
"May I see the knife?" he asked, gesturing at the weapon. She looked at it, then glanced at him   
  
and he read the doubt in her face. "I'm not completely incompetent," he snapped. Though Melissa dipped   
  
her eyes guiltily, it still took her a few more seconds before she held it out to him. He took the knife   
  
quickly, before she changed her mind, and settled it into his own palms for closer examination. Though the   
  
boat was moving fast, it was a smooth ride, and he didn't fear losing their precious weapon.  
  
Up close, the knife appeared relatively unremarkable. The blade was extraordinarily thin, and   
  
looked fragile, but the metal was solid and strong. Testing the edge, Wendell found it sharp, but not   
  
excessively so, and the heft seemed oddly balanced. The handle was a simple piece of driftwood, carved to   
  
curve with the hand so it was easy to hold and use. A good weapon, but not one that could fell a powerful   
  
creature. He returned it with a shrug. "The mermaids gave this to you?"  
  
Melissa's hand clutched the handle and she drew the knife in close to her body. "Yes."  
  
"It does not seem magical."  
  
"It will work." She looked at him hopefully. "It will."  
  
"Of course." Wendell knew it was impossible to argue with faith. He put his arm around   
  
Melissa's shoulder again and they huddled together as they sped towards the island.  
  
Time passed without notice into the dark night. The wind whistled by them, occasionally drowned   
  
out by the slapping of waves against the hull. Wendell tasted salt on his lips, and his cheeks itched from   
  
the water that had misted against his face and dried. The arm he had around Melissa grew numb as they   
  
continued silently on their trip, but he kept it there for both of them. His thoughts seemed scattered by the   
  
wind, never settling for more than a moment on any one point. He thought of the monster they were going   
  
to face; the merfolk that had appeared to help them; the imp, who lay snuggled against their feet.   
  
Grojavek's warmth wrapped around Wendell's ankles, and he could only smile ruefully at the thought of the   
  
imp helping them at all, even accidentally.  
  
Eventually, Dennis turned and hollered at them to wake up. Wendell stirred, not having been   
  
asleep, but neither really being awake, and rolled his shoulders. He stood after making sure Melissa was all   
  
right, and faced towards the bow. An island loomed in front of them, one side streaked with moonlight, the   
  
other hulking in shadow. The mermen's frantic push slowed, and the boat shifted under Wendell's feet   
  
again. Melissa took slow steps towards the front, her eyes wide. It was as ominous a sight as they'd both   
  
feared and, instinctively, Wendell knew they'd have to climb at least partway up the small mountain that   
  
formed the bulk of the island.   
  
The wind died suddenly, filling the air with the splashing of the mermen in the water. There were   
  
a series of louder splashes, and the boat began drifting towards shore. Wendell peered over the railing to   
  
find all of the merfolk gone.  
  
"Looks like this is it," he murmured, even his soft words loud in the silent night. Dennis steered   
  
them as close as he could before dropping anchor. They halted with a slight jerk, and all three exhaled as   
  
one.   
  
"If you don't mind, Princess," Dennis said, "I'll be stayin' onboard."  
  
"That's fine." Melissa came back to the rear of the boat and picked up Grojavek. The imp's eyes   
  
glowed in the moonlight, and he was staring at the island with obvious fear. "We're here," she told him.   
  
"Don't forget that you're helping us now."  
  
Grojavek shook his head. "I won't forget. I promise!"  
  
Wendell kept his opinion on that to himself and helped Dennis ready the rowboat that would take   
  
them to shore. The fisherman threw in an extra lantern he had for light and gave Wendell his small,   
  
wickedly sharp gutting knife for emergencies. Melissa clambered in with the imp and her knife, and   
  
Wendell followed after, catching the rope once the fisherman had untied it. "Wait for us!" he called.  
  
Dennis grimaced, holding out his hands. "How long?"  
  
Wendell shared a silent question with Melissa. "Noon," he finally answered. The fisherman   
  
nodded and waved, and the young king wondered if they'd ever see him again.  
  
He fervently hoped so as they rowed towards shore.   
  
"Where is she staying?" Melissa asked Grojavek.   
  
The little imp squeaked and tried to pull away from her, but she had a firm hold on his small body.   
  
"In the mountain."  
  
"Inside of it?"  
  
"Yes, yes. I know where. I'll show you."  
  
"How did you get here before?"  
  
"Magic."  
  
Melissa frowned. "Yours?"  
  
"No!" Groj shook his head furiously. "No, no, no. Hers! She got me here." He blinked his   
  
round eyes and asked shyly, "You untie me?"  
  
"No way."  
  
Wendell breathed a silent sigh of relief for that and rowed the boat into shore. He leapt out as they   
  
got close, as did Melissa, and they pulled it far enough up that it wouldn't be dragged out to sea. Grabbing   
  
Grojavek, Melissa stalked forward, the moon lighting their way. It was going to be dark inside that   
  
mountain and he thanked Dennis under his breath for the light.  
  
The trio found themselves at the mountain's base only a few feet from shore. It was no where near   
  
the size of Dragon Mountain, but knowing they had to free climb it to get to the entrance made it just as   
  
imposing.   
  
Resting for a moment, Melissa set Grojavek down and stared at him, her eyes hard. "I'm going to   
  
have to untie you so we can get to the entrance. You have to show us, and I can't be holding you to climb."  
  
"Melissa-"  
  
"Be quiet," she ordered Wendell. He felt himself bristle with angry words and bit them back.   
  
Getting into an argument here could kill them all. She continued after a pause. "If you betray us, if I even   
  
think you're betraying us, I'll kill you."  
  
The imp nodded.   
  
"You'll lead us there, without any tricks, understand?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
Wendell had never seen an imp so subdued. Still, he would make sure to watch him carefully on   
  
their trek up.   
  
Melissa used Wendell's knife to cut Grojavek's bonds, and the imp shook his arms and legs out for   
  
a minute before he started scampering around the base of the mountain. They hurried after him, alarmed at   
  
the speed he was moving, but he soon stopped, pointing at a well-hidden trail.   
  
"Here!" he squeaked, starting again at a slower pace.  
  
It took only a few minutes to realize the trail was not so much a hiking path, but a climbing one.   
  
They had to crawl on hands and knees at times to pull themselves up, and after fifteen minutes, Wendell   
  
felt sweat running down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin. He wished that he'd worn a lighter shirt, and   
  
envied Melissa her short sleeves. He would have shirts like that made for him when he returned to his   
  
castle. *If I return to my castle* he thought, worried. What if something did happen to him? Had he   
  
picked a successor yet? He couldn't remember if he had, and that made him certain that he hadn't. They   
  
would probably call Virginia back and give the crown to her, since she was the closest thing Wendell had   
  
to a relative. His hand slipped on a rock, leaving his palm with a stinging cut, and he grunted. Climbing up   
  
this mountain was not the time to regret not having a family.  
  
They continued up, led by the constant reassurances by the imp that the entrance was this way, if   
  
they just went a little bit further. The trail had turned to an almost continuous climb, and they were mostly   
  
pulling themselves up now, the waves crashing hungrily at the mountain's edge on this side. Wendell was   
  
starting to suspect a trick when Melissa screamed. Rocks bounced down towards him from above, and she   
  
slipped down, her feet striking his hands. He let go, falling a couple of feet himself before grabbing onto a   
  
boulder jutting out of the mountain's side. Then he heard the ring of metal on stone, and watched the knife   
  
bounce past him. Melissa screamed again, a sound of pure despair, and Wendell reached out without   
  
thinking to grab the knife before it bounced down and into the water.   
  
He felt the blade slice his finger, and then, somehow, he had the handle and he was falling away   
  
from Melissa, holding the knife above him. His feet slammed into a stone landing they'd passed, and he   
  
felt the bones snap in his foot as his body collapsed on top. He fell to the side, stopping his fall, and the   
  
knife clattered out of his hand and skittered a foot away, safe.   
  
The throbbing began in his foot, and he pulled his bruised body to a sitting position. Above him,   
  
he thought he heard Melissa calling his name, but a haze swathed his senses, muffling sight and sound.   
  
Wendell examined his leg and saw the calf and foot were twisted at a monstrous angle and already starting   
  
to swell against the confines of his pants and leather boot. Some detached part of himself reminded him   
  
how much that was going to hurt to take off and he silently yelled at it. The pain started then, slowly,   
  
pulsing with every beat of his heart and then overwhelming even that, driving his heartbeat at it's own pace.   
  
The subdued throb turned sharp and hot and he wanted to reach down and cut his leg off at the knee to stop   
  
the pain.   
  
Melissa landed beside him and when he glanced at her, she was wide-eyed and trembling. "Oh   
  
God, Wendell. Are you ok?"  
  
He frowned, not sure how to answer the question.   
  
"Please," she knelt at his side, her hands making soft, flitting movements over his leg without   
  
touching it. "Don't die," she breathed.  
  
Wendell smiled, knowing he could answer that. He felt drunk. "I won't." She was crying, and he   
  
touched her cheek. "I won't," he repeated.  
  
She wiped her cheeks with shaking fingers. "You can't."  
  
"Then I won't."  
  
It seemed to reassure her because she nodded and looked away from his leg, searching the ground.   
  
"Where's the knife?"   
  
His thoughts couldn't keep up with the quick change. "W-What?"  
  
"The knife. It fell, where is it?"   
  
He blinked, searching the ground near him as though he knew what she was talking about, silently   
  
wishing she'd help him cut off his leg. The reasoning part of him that was left decided he must have   
  
smacked his head and disappeared in helpless fury.  
  
"I found it," she sighed, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes lit on his leg again and she grimaced.   
  
"What are we going to do?"  
  
Grojavek scrambled back down and hopped impatiently. "We have to go. She'll know we're here.   
  
Come on, come on!"  
  
"But Wendell's injured. He can't continue."  
  
"We have to go."  
  
"I can't just leave him!" Melissa hesitantly touched his ankle and Wendell gasped in agony.   
  
"We have to."  
  
"Will he be safe?"  
  
The imp threw his hands up in the air. "No! She kill us all, if She want to. We have to go!"  
  
Wendell felt her eyes on him, those stormy eyes he loved so much. He couldn't seem to think   
  
straight, couldn't seem to get past the excruciating pain in his leg. Melissa was in trouble, he knew that was   
  
true in some way, but he couldn't remember exactly why. He knew that she had to go and wished he could   
  
go with her. "Leave me," he told her. "You need to." It was as much a question as a statement.   
  
Melissa dropped his gaze, staring down at the knife in her hands. "I have to do this, Wendell," she   
  
whispered to him. "I have to." She stood, and Grojavek seemed to run up the side of the mountain. She   
  
followed after him, her movements slower and more cautious. Wendell saw her look back at him once, her   
  
lovely face worried.   
  
"Melissa?" he murmured, watching her leave him. Where was she going? He thought he was   
  
supposed to know that. Her form got smaller and the lantern's light dimmed, and then both disappeared   
  
from sight altogether. Wendell was left alone with the sea and the sky and his aching pain.  
  
**********  
  
Melissa took the rest of the climb more slowly, trying not to let her mind wander. She'd been so   
  
consumed with imagining what she would do to Rena earlier that she'd dropped the knife. And now   
  
Wendell lay alone, effectively helpless, as a result.   
  
That decision had hurt her more than she liked to admit. There had been blood seeping down the   
  
side of his head and she could hardly stand to look at his leg. But his voice had been strong and they were   
  
too close to turn back now -- he must have known that when he told her to continue. And an image of   
  
Terry had urged her until she knew she couldn't stay with him. She prayed to whatever force watched over   
  
the people here that Wendell would be kept safe.  
  
Grojavek stopped above her and pointed at something Melissa couldn't see. By the time she   
  
reached his ledge, he was hopping up and down.  
  
"In here!" he whispered. The imp disappeared into a door-sized opening in the mountain. The   
  
darkness swallowed him up and she hurriedly lit the lantern before following after. The light was strong,   
  
but still felt almost useless in the oppressive black. Even the silence seemed a living thing, eating at her   
  
courage.   
  
The fear boiled inside of her, like laughter, needing a release. Not long ago, she'd been a bored,   
  
miserable actress. Now she was a Princess, her best friend gone, risking her life to get the revenge she so   
  
desperately needed. Revenge would make everything worth it. She thought of Wendell, and the pain she   
  
had seen in his eyes the past few days. It had to.  
  
Grojavek crouched quietly on a rock deep inside the cavern, watching her with his buggy eyes.   
  
"Where is she?" Melissa whispered, flashing the light around and finding only stone. Her spine   
  
tickled with unease. "Do we go farther?" She stood next to the imp, scanning the dark anxiously.  
  
"I do!" Grojavek shouted, leaping onto her arm. Melissa yelped in surprise and then screamed as   
  
she felt sharp teeth bite into the fleshy part of her thumb. She shook her arm to release him, realizing her   
  
mistake a moment too late.  
  
The imp let go, taking the knife with him and slicing her palm as he fell. Melissa flinched but   
  
tried to grab him, and succeeded only in smashing the lantern onto the stone floor. The small flame flared   
  
as the oil washed out, and Melissa turned away, blinded. By the time the fire had settled to a flickering   
  
burn, Grojavek was gone.  
  
"Damn it!" Melissa shouted, her words reverberating in the empty cavern. She looked around   
  
frantically for the imp while a little light remained, and could find nowhere else to go other than the   
  
entrance they'd come through. The only way she saw that was by noting the paler darkness than the   
  
surrounding wall.   
  
The last oil was consumed by the greedy flames, taking her hopes with it. Melissa blinked in the   
  
darkness for a long minute before accepting just how blind she was in here.   
  
She went onto her hands and knees and started crawling for the door, exhausted suddenly. The   
  
fierce energy that had been driving her had slipped out of reach, and it was hard just to lift her limbs. Her   
  
knees and palms gathered stinging scratches as she shuffled along the stone floor. *At least I can get back   
  
to Wendell now* she thought, relieved.   
  
The loss of the knife was devastating, and every time she thought of it she started to   
  
hyperventilate, but still, there was the simple peace in returning to Wendell. Leaving him down there had   
  
sat heavy on her heart, and she wanted only to be back at his side and make sure he was truly all right. She   
  
couldn't believe now, looking back on it, that she'd left him at all, even with his words. He would   
  
understand and forgive her, at least she hoped so, if she hadn't pushed his forgiveness too far already. It   
  
was one of the things she loved about him.  
  
Melissa paused, the doorway only a few feet away. "I'm in love with a King," she whispered. It   
  
felt right to say the words. Surging to her feet, she hurried for the entrance, even more anxious to return to   
  
him.   
  
She tripped and stumbled out into the night air, the cold, sea wind slapping her cheeks. Scanning   
  
for any signs of the imp and finding none, Melissa started down the trail, carefully lowering herself the way   
  
they'd come. It was more important than ever that she not slip here, defenseless as she was. The realization   
  
they had neither seen nor heard from Rena was unsettling.  
  
Stopping to rest on a small ledge, Melissa knelt and shuffled to the edge, peering over in hopes of   
  
seeing Wendell. The moon was higher now, and after the darkness of the cavern, seemed infinitely bright   
  
to her. Bright enough to show her Wendell, lying curled up on his side on his ledge. Her eyes focused and   
  
a glint of silver caught her attention.  
  
The world narrowed and stopped, even the waves seeming to cease their endless motion, as   
  
Melissa took in the scene. Hovering next to Wendell was the traitor, Grojavek, the knife clutched in his   
  
long-fingered hands. Next to him, her hair glowing in the moonlight, was a woman who could only be   
  
Rena. Even from this distance, Melissa could see that her face was horribly disfigured, and one half of her   
  
body seemed twice the size of the other. She was looming over Wendell's body, and Melissa finally made   
  
out the blood that seemed to be covering him. In Rena's hands was a thick, sharp rock, poised for use.   
  
Melissa tried to scream, to get her attention, but her throat choked closed with fear. There was no   
  
way she would reach them in time. All she could do was watch, horrified, as Rena swung the rock,   
  
laughing sharp and loud.   
  
**********  
  
Rena knew she could kill King Wendell, as she prepared to strike him again. She would have   
  
done it already, but she couldn't resist the control she had over him. It had been unexpected luck to find   
  
him here by himself, too dazed to do much to protect himself. He'd pierced her once with his dagger, but it   
  
had healed when she'd struck the first blow against him. Actually killing him herself, one strike at a time,   
  
was intoxicating.  
  
She started to swing again, when the wind picked up and she felt the blood's presence resonate   
  
within her. The blow she planned glanced off of Wendell's side, and the young king merely groaned.   
  
Ignoring him, Rena looked up, and saw the woman, the moon making a silver halo around her. Their eyes   
  
met, and the rock fell from Rena's hands, bouncing off the ledge and falling into the water below.   
  
Hissing, Rena pointed at the woman, a woman she'd never met but knew instantly. She was *his*   
  
blood. The last of the line, the one who'd escaped her. Why hadn't the wind told her that? The woman's   
  
eyes widened and she started scrambling down the trail, sliding and slipping towards her.  
  
Rena glared at Grojavek, motioning him closer. "You didn't say she was his line!" she accused.  
  
The imp shrank back, babbling incoherently for a moment. "I-I'm sorry!"   
  
"Idiot. I should have known better than to trust you." Rena waited for the woman to approach,   
  
sure she could take the mortal, filled as she was with Wendell's life force, even before he was dead. Her   
  
death would be even sweeter than his, and much more satisfying. To finally kill one of them with her own   
  
hands! Rena shivered with delight.  
  
The woman paused on a ledge several feet away, her eyes wary. Rena could see her prince in   
  
those eyes.   
  
"Leave him alone," the woman demanded, her tone arrogant. That was typical of Byron's family.   
  
They all thought they could control her.  
  
"You're his granddaughter," Rena whispered, pleased to see the shock register in the woman's   
  
eyes. "You must feel so special. Coming to get the evil monster. What do they call me now? Soul   
  
Ravager?" Her lips pulled into a gruesome smile. "How clever."  
  
The woman shifted, taking a step closer but not leaving her ledge. "You killed them all, you bitch.   
  
Innocent villagers, my whole family, even Terry."   
  
Rena couldn't miss the agony that accompanied the name. "She was a pleasant accident," she said,   
  
digging in, enjoying the pain that flared in the woman's eyes. "A sweet soul, but not enough."   
  
"Enough for what?" The woman's voice had gone ragged.  
  
"Do you know what your grandfather did to me?" she asked, ignoring the question. It was time   
  
they learned the truth, even if they wouldn't live to share it. "I gave up everything I knew for him, and he   
  
betrayed me for that whore, Serena. The sea witch cut off my tongue and split my fins with pain such as   
  
you will never know. I slept at Byron's door like a dog, desperate to be near him. I danced at his wedding   
  
until my feet bled, every step like walking on shells, and still he never gave me what I wanted. He was too   
  
arrogant to love me, the mute who had saved his life. I should have let him drown. I should have killed   
  
him when my sisters gave me the knife." Rena felt her arms trembling with the centuries of anger. "And   
  
then I did kill him. And every last one of you will die before your sacrifice equals mine. Bring me the   
  
knife, imp."  
  
Grojavek cowered away from her, clutching it to his chest. She glanced at Melissa and smiled   
  
again. "I know that knife anywhere, granddaughter of my murderer. Where did you get it?" The woman's   
  
lips firmed with the stubbornness Rena recognized. "No matter. It is fitting that now I will finally get to   
  
use it." She glared at the imp. "You stupid creature, don't you understand what I'm saying? Bring it here."   
  
He took a step backward, his whole body shaking.   
  
"You'll fall off the ledge," she nearly screamed. Every nerve was sharp and the wind blew strong   
  
around them, whipping her hair back. The imp paused in his retreat, and stayed there. "I will kill you   
  
either way, you insignificant speck. It's just a matter of time. Don't make it painful for yourself."   
  
She sensed the woman's movement and turned, watching her as she lowered herself down to   
  
Rena's ledge. And then the imp was screaming and running, and she felt the blade sink into her lower   
  
thigh. It buried itself to the hilt, and when she looked down in shock, the imp still hung on, screaming   
  
wildly.   
  
Byron's granddaughter yelled, but her voice was lost as the wind wailed, and Rena felt her body   
  
changing. The knife throbbed, sucking her power. She reached down to pull it and the imp loose and the   
  
woman tackled her, and it felt like a boulder had struck her. The woman wrapped her arms around Rena   
  
and the three of them staggered off the side of the ledge and crashed into the ice-cold ocean below.  
  
**********  
  
Wendell had woken when the imp started to scream, and watched as he impaled Soul Ravager   
  
with the magical knife. Grojavek hung on, twisting and yelling, and Wendell rooted silently for the imp   
  
before feeling panic tighten his heart until it nearly stopped. Melissa ran for the pair of them and did a   
  
flying bearhug that sent all three tumbling over the side of the cliff.   
  
Even though his body shrieked in protest, and the pain from his leg painted black edges in his   
  
vision, Wendell pulled himself to the edge and watched as the trio disappeared into the depths of the ocean.   
  
"Melissa!" he called out, helpless to do anything else. He watched the waters, desperate for a sign   
  
that she was all right. The wind moaned and lessened, and became a whisper on his cheeks. And still he   
  
searched for signs of life, finding nothing.   
  
"No," he groaned, his fingers clenching. His heart felt sluggish and heavy, and he prayed it would   
  
stop so he wouldn't have to feel the pain of losing Melissa. His whole world was in her eyes.  
  
And then, the black flickered silver.   
  
As he watched, mermaids, tens of them, swam upwards, and in their arms they supported her,   
  
dragging her up onto the shore. One of them, a woman with the same silver hair as Soul Ravager had had,   
  
stayed for a moment, and touched Melissa's face gently. She looked up, meeting Wendell's eyes, and then   
  
slipped back into the sea. On the wind, he heard her words of thanks, though she hadn't seemed to talk.   
  
He watched Melissa anxiously, wishing he could climb down on his own but recognizing how   
  
dangerous it would be. *If she doesn't move soon, I'll head down* he promised himself, already planning   
  
how he'd make it.   
  
She started to cough, and rolled onto her side, her arms clutching her stomach as she vomited up   
  
sea water. Wendell exhaled and felt his heart start to beat again. "Melissa," he called, hoping he had   
  
strength enough so she would hear.   
  
She finished coughing and struggled to her feet, her eyes searching the mountainside and finally   
  
resting on him. He smiled at her, and watched her smile slowly in return.   
  
"Are you all right?" he called.  
  
She nodded. "Yes." Her voice rasped. "Are you?"  
  
He looked down at himself and saw more blood than he thought he'd lost. "I think so."   
  
"Hold on, I'll be right up."  
  
Sighing, Wendell settled himself away from the edge and waited for her to arrive. What would   
  
they do, now that it was all over?   
  
The wind stopped, and the silence that remained fell expectantly around him. He heard an   
  
unfamiliar noise coming from below, and crawled back to the edge to see what it was. Within the ocean   
  
depths, a faint light was glowing and steadily growing brighter. Melissa had stopped on the shore, and   
  
stared at it just as he was.   
  
A column of light shot up from out of the ocean and touched the sky, lights flickering through it,   
  
becoming stars. Wendell gasped, watching the specks as they glowed brightly in the black fabric of the   
  
night, twinkling merrily. Two of the lights shifted out of the column and floated to Melissa, stopping in   
  
front of her.  
  
**********  
  
Melissa watched the two glowing forms warily, her sight dimmed from the blinding column of   
  
light. As the forms approached, she saw that they were people, and her mouth dried when she recognized   
  
one was Teresa.  
  
She formed Terry's name on her lips, but it died, unspoken. The other form, a man she had never   
  
seen, came forward first. Stopping in front of her, she saw he had dark hair and gray eyes that looked   
  
startlingly familiar.  
  
"Caterina," he said, his voice hollow but somehow warm.  
  
She felt the word in her blood, and knew who he was. "Daddy," she murmured.   
  
"Look at you." He smiled, and his hands, outlined with golden light, reached out to her. She tried   
  
to take them, but they passed through. "You're so beautiful," he sighed. "I wish I could have seen you   
  
grow."  
  
"I wish I could have seen you at all," she said, wanting desperately to touch him. He had died to   
  
save her and her mother, this man she'd never met.   
  
"I know. I'm proud of you. You've saved us, all of us." He gestured at the column of light, as a   
  
few more forms flowed towards the sky and sparked into stars. "She was holding onto our souls, using   
  
them for her power. We kept trying to escape, but no one ever could. And now, we're free."  
  
Melissa smiled shyly. "Now what will happen to you?"  
  
"We pass on, and can watch over our kin in peace." He tried to touch her again, and failed once   
  
more. Her heart ached with the emptiness of not being able to even feel his touch. "Your mother is waiting   
  
for me, I can feel her, even now. We love you very much, Caterina. Never forget that."  
  
"I won't," she whispered. "I love you, too. Both of you. Tell her that for me, that I didn't mean   
  
what I said."  
  
He beamed, his whole face glowing with joy. "My little girl." He looked over his shoulder, and   
  
when he turned back, his face was somber. "She loves you too, you know. As much as we do." He   
  
stepped back while Melissa swallowed down the knot in her throat. It hurt to breathe through the sorrow   
  
the gripped her. She felt like running away, but it was a second chance to say goodbye that she couldn't   
  
throw away.   
  
Terry came forward then, looking serene. "Missy, you did it."  
  
Fighting to speak, she finally answered, "I did it for you."  
  
The older woman shook her head slightly. "That's not entirely true, I think." Her eyes flicked to   
  
Wendell, and then back. "We can't stay long, Missy, so listen to me now. You have held your happiness   
  
hostage long enough." Melissa jerked, startled by Terry's words. "I know you feel like you can't be happy   
  
when other people suffer, but that's not true. Let this be your redemption, as much as it's ours. Let yourself   
  
love him and just be happy." She, too, reached out, her ghostly hand brushing Melissa's cheek and Melissa   
  
prayed that she would feel her touch. But there was nothing, and it pierced her heart with pain. "You've   
  
been my 'daughter' for so long, it's going to be hard to let you go."  
  
Melissa fought back the heaviness in her chest to get the words out. It was her last chance to give   
  
Terry what she most deserved. "Then don't let me go," she pleaded. "Terry, I love you. You've always   
  
been there for me when I needed you, I wouldn't have made it without your support. You're the only   
  
mother I've ever wanted." Years of words that should have been said piled up and she couldn't speak at all.   
  
Terry smiled, gently, her kind eyes shining. Her form was blurry through the tears in Melissa's   
  
eyes. "I love you too, Missy." She took a reluctant step away. "We have to go now. My dear, sweet girl."  
  
"No," Melissa sobbed. There was so much she wanted to say. "You can't."   
  
"Be happy, for me." She continued to retreat and Melissa felt panic seizing her. Terry was   
  
leaving for good, and they would never meet again.   
  
Melissa followed after her, splashing into the water, hardly able to see as tears streamed down her   
  
cheeks. "Wait, don't go, Terry. Please." She reached out to grab her and force her to stay, but her hands   
  
passed through the other woman's golden form. "What am I going to do without you?"  
  
Teresa smiled. "I'll be here, Missy, watching over you every night. Just be happy. It's waiting for   
  
you, you only have to accept it."   
  
"I love you," she cried to the two forms as they flowed back into the column. They flashed once   
  
and then sped up into the sky, joining the millions of other stars that lingered above. The column of light   
  
dissolved back into the ocean and then was gone.  
  
Melissa stood in the waves for a long time, her head craned back to the sky. The wind caressed   
  
her wet cheeks, unable to dry the steady stream of tears. Finally the cold seeped through and she shivered   
  
violently, dragging herself back to the shore. Wiping at her cheeks, knowing that it wouldn't be the last of   
  
her tears, she began climbing slowly to where Wendell, with all his love, waited for her.   
  
**********  
  
They made the return trip down slowly, Wendell noting with irony he'd at least fallen past the   
  
difficult part. With Melissa's aid, and the return of the energy Rena had stolen from him, they finally   
  
reached the small shore again. Melissa rowed them out to the fishing boat and Dennis greeted them with   
  
shaking hands.  
  
"What, by the Queen, was that?" he asked, eyes wide.  
  
Melissa helped Wendell settle into a comfortable position before responding. "It was the souls   
  
finding peace."  
  
"Then she's dead?"  
  
"Yes." Melissa thumped to the floor next to Wendell, all of her energy gone. She struggled just to   
  
keep her eyes open. Dennis whooped congratulations and started chattering to them about all that Soul   
  
Ravager had done to deserve her fate.  
  
"Rena," Melissa murmured, when she heard the name the fisherman called her.  
  
"What?" Dennis looked over his shoulder at them, his brows furrowed.  
  
"Her name was Rena."  
  
He mulled over that and fell silent long enough for Melissa to sleep.   
  
Some time later, a warm hand shook her gently. "Wake up, Princess. We've returned."  
  
Her eyes fought to stay closed, but Dennis' soft urgings and her own willpower won out. She   
  
stretched her arms above her head and stood. The sun had already risen, but the air still nipped coldly at   
  
her cheeks. They had docked at the pier and it seemed the entire village was out, stretched along its length,   
  
waiting for them.  
  
A great roar erupted from the crowd when she helped Wendell stand, and they were both neatly   
  
lifted from the ship to the pier. She met his startled gaze, grinning tiredly.  
  
"Wendell!"  
  
Melissa searched the crowd for the familiar voice and saw Tony pushing his way through,   
  
followed by a handsome, dark haired man. She sobbed once when she saw Sport in Tony's arms.   
  
The older man arrived, depositing the big tabby in Melissa's arms with a smile before turning on   
  
Wendell. She buried her face in her cat's warm fur, and listened with half an ear to the reunion next to her.  
  
"Look at you! What happened?"   
  
"I fell off the side of a mountain, actually."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"It truly looks worse than it is."  
  
"We have to get it fixed, where's a healer?" A man shouted at them to wait and ran off back to the   
  
village. "We saw the light last night and rode into town, we just got here an hour ago. We were worried   
  
about you." Melissa grinned to herself at the rugged emotion in his tone.  
  
"Yeah, Wendy. Huff puff, you gave all of us a fright! My Virginia would bite my head off if we   
  
let something happen to you!" She felt someone watching her intently. "Are you all right, miss?"  
  
She glanced up, nodding to the unfamiliar man. She remembered Wendell's story and smiled.   
  
"You must be Wolf," she said.  
  
He gave a low bow, flourishing his hand grandly. "The one and only!"  
  
"And we give thanks for that every day," Tony muttered.  
  
Wolf glared sharply at him, then put on a smile that charmed Melissa. "Princess Melissa, your   
  
carriage awaits!" He bounded back through the crowd to a roomy wagon, eyeing the three of them   
  
impatiently.   
  
"Is he always like that?" Melissa whispered.  
  
Wendell rolled his eyes. "Always."  
  
"He's exhausting!"  
  
"Why do you think I stayed here?" Tony asked, supporting Wendell as they walked. "I don't know   
  
how Virginia does it."  
  
They paused while the village healer pushed through the crowd and bandaged Wendell   
  
thoroughly, making sure he would be all right on the journey. Wolf and Tony got him into the wagon with   
  
as few pained moans as possible, and then helped Melissa in as well.  
  
"Is Virginia here, too?" she asked, settling herself next to Wendell. She took his hand in hers,   
  
energized by his touch. She wanted to tell him everything but there were too many people surrounding   
  
them.   
  
"Oh yes!" Wolf replied. "My luscious lamb is waiting for us back at Tony's."  
  
"She's excited to meet you, Ms. Duke." Tony glanced at her, and Melissa saw the familiar glaze of   
  
hero-worship in his eyes. "For now, you and Wendell just get some rest."  
  
"As long as you call me Melissa," she said on a yawn. Sport snuggled into her lap, purring   
  
furiously.  
  
"Caterina."  
  
She glanced to the side of the wagon and saw Joffrey, his eyes soft and filled with hope. "Thank   
  
you. You have done your family proud. Please, come back to your home. It is yours to rule, and we will   
  
gladly have you." There were a few murmurs of agreement from the villagers, and some dark stares that   
  
said much to the contrary.  
  
"I'll think about it," she said. She had to talk to Wendell first.   
  
Joffrey patted her free hand and stepped away from the wagon, accepting what she could give.  
  
Wendell was watching her as the horses started forward, harnesses rattling. She could see all the   
  
questions in his eyes but he remained quiet, giving her time.   
  
"I love you," she said suddenly.   
  
His eyes widened and then his face glowed with a joyful smile. "I was hoping you did," he   
  
murmured.   
  
Melissa felt an endless well of love open in her heart, and she regretted all the hurt she'd caused   
  
him. "You waited for me. That's an incredible thing, Wendell. You had no reason to, but you still stayed   
  
with me."  
  
"Of course I had a reason, Melissa. I love you." He swallowed, turning serious. "I want you to   
  
stay here, in this world. I had planned all along on letting you return, but I can't. Not even if I have to fight   
  
your every step back."  
  
She bit back tears and wondered if she would always be this amazed by him. "I'll stay. Of course   
  
I'll stay. I couldn't leave you now, even though I don't really know your world."  
  
He shifted a little to face her more fully, squeezing her hand. "You are my world," he said softly.   
  
He leaned forward, kissing her with gentle lips, and her soul felt complete again.   
  
Wolf leaned down between them, grinning. "So, who's castle are you gonna live at?"  
  
They looked up at him and laughed. "That's a good question," Wendell said. He moved again,   
  
wincing at the pain. "Mine for awhile, I think. While we have Melissa's renovated."  
  
"And while I take care of things at home. Maybe I could fake my death, like Elvis." Tony began   
  
snickering and the other two men gave her blank stares. "Never mind," she said.  
  
Wolf nudged Wendell, and the King groaned, glaring at him. "What?"  
  
"We can have a double wedding now!"  
  
"Really, Wolf, don't you have to navigate or something?"  
  
The dark haired man huffed and turned in his seat after flashing Melissa a smile. "Life is   
  
definitely going to be interesting," she whispered.   
  
Wendell nodded. "We're going to need a lot of energy. Let's rest now, while we can."  
  
Sport meowed loudly when she moved him to settle down more comfortably next to Wendell.   
  
The big tabby got up and curled on Wendell's legs, his eyes closing again quickly. Melissa lay her head   
  
against Wendell's chest, warmed by his presence. She fell asleep quickly, lulled by the rhythmic sounds of   
  
his heart.  
  
**********  
  
Grojavek woke up with a mouth full of sand.  
  
He pulled himself into a ball, staring around at the long expanse of beach. In the distance he could   
  
see ships and a shining castle towering over them.  
  
"I'm alive!" he squeaked, jumping to his feet. He bounced around for a long time, doing   
  
cartwheels and somersaults and covering himself in wet sand.   
  
He sniffed the air, coughing on the overpowering combination of sea and fish. The recent events   
  
were fuzzy, but he did remember attacking Soul Ravager. He was sick of her calling him stupid.  
  
"I'm not stupid!" he announced to a nearby seagull. The bird shrieked at him and flew off.  
  
He also remembered Muklavuk being very angry. Groj sighed to himself, feeling the familiar   
  
presence gone. The little imp shrugged it off. He didn't really want to be king anyway, not if being   
  
courageous was so terrifying, and that was all Muklavuk thought about. Grojavek started for home,   
  
skipping and spinning in circles as he went. The mermaids had saved him, the remembered that, too. One   
  
had pulled him off of Soul Ravager's leg and landed him here. He dug a slender finger into his ear and   
  
pulled out a huge ball of wax. It had been too long, he thought, chewing on it happily. He was definitely   
  
not the adventuring type.  
  
When he got home, his mother pinched his ear and demanded an explanation of his absence, and   
  
he didn't mind at all.  
  
**********  
  
The End 


End file.
